#and roman needed his cage

[failbrothers]

“The Encounter” by Louise Glück

From The Triumph of Achilles (1985)

[wonderpommey]

Kendall doesn’t love Naomi, Shiv never loved Tom, Tom didn’t love Greg, Greg didn’t love Tom. Tom stopped loving Shiv. Connor doesn’t really love Willa (did he even notice her whole face has changed?), Willa doesn’t love Connor. Logan didn’t love his pew bench and most of his pew bench didn’t love him or didn’t have time to stop.

Roman though. 

Roman loves Gerri, Georgia always told us that and when she talks spinoff it’s Colin, Stewey or Roman & Gerri (and yes, RomanGerri wasn’t Jesse’s, it’s Georgia’s and Tony’s and J's and Kieran’s and Mark’s, but that’s enough!)

From reading around, I think the finale brought home the depth of Roman’s  feelings from seeing him watch her on film reciting a maybe dirty maybe spiritual limerick and fall to the floor with it. He took from her, thinking he was entitled to ask her jump into bed or on that grenade. This spoilt little puppy prince who had never suffered a consequence. He attempted to climb his Everest, locked up in a cage. But as soon as he steps out of the cage at Logan’s funeral and abandons the poorly worn skin of whomever he was supposed to be for dad, and the reality of his feelings and his guilt and his shame hits, he realises he barely deserved to be at her feet. He’s a bruised, hollow prince who ‘knifed’ the only person who had real adult expectations of him (in every sense of the term - the scripts are part of my canon), for a throne he didn’t even want. How could you not break down at that??

And it morphs into a love that doesn’t need anything to feed the flame. No reciprocity, no touching, no comfort. Nothing transactional. It doesn’t even need to be spoken or told. It simply exists, in those jelly glass eye balls. He hasn’t earned it as it disappears behind screens and glass partitions where the adults are. She’s put her shoes back on and she’s walked out of his glass room.

Consuming that love becomes the only thing he can do to feel its burn, to satisfy the craving. He won’t be able to give her slow pleasure or any of his fluids but he can partake in hers in some way. Smart people know what they are and God forbid he sullies anymore of her with the oozing blood at the seam big bag of bullshit that he is. But you better believe he can find a way to have her on his brain, his heart, his tongue, his bloodstream.

He steps out of the cage and bids farewell to the toxicity of denying his own heart, he goes from a cage where he could just take, in exchange for pretending to be someone - no consequences but the occasional beating son I promise, to a world where he’s himself, needy and broken, nothing of value to give. He breaks out but the realisation of having fucked his relationship with her is the price of admission into the real world of his real feelings.

Oh she’d pick up the phone if he called, she’d meet him at the bar (I think he even knows that) but his superego, despite his hysterical cries about how good he looks and you can’t really see how broken he is and that it should be him, has acknowledged the fact that he doesn’t deserve her and wonders why she would take any interest in him if he was no longer this diamond in the rough? Can’t bear her eyes on him, if he’s just the nothing bullshit who fired her and lashed out at her. Which is ironic really because, being mad at Ken’s for his abuse, protecting Shiv, the clarity on his and all of their worth, staying and being the face of the humiliation, signing the deal. These are signs he’s morphing into something with grit, something worthy.

I think. Who knows. It’s day 1. They’re slow but it only lengthens the - excruciating - pleasure. It wasn’t a healthy, happy love story. It was a star crossed First Love meeting Last Love with all the unmatched expectations and maturity it entails, but only they knew it and a few of the people that watch. And really this was the most beautifully crafted thing I’ve ever seen on TV, the depths are almost out of reach. Romey-o Loves Gerri, it’s a feminist show and yes even the fact that Logan didn’t consider his grandkids his bloodline (and of course Roman would hate to have children and of course Shiv didn’t have time to tell him about her pregnancy). All these things are in the show and barely visible and thank god for that. 

And you can wonder why the hell he’s in a bar smiling and crying at his cocktail or you may prefer to read it as being only about his dad or only about his sibs or just the company if you can manage the connective tissue. But to me, yes of course, his last second on screen is him ingesting her in some way. I mean, OBVIOUSLY. It’s not because it wasn’t in your face, that it wasn’t the realest thing, the only true romance this show has indulged.

[spiicii]

the og bloodline  / bloodline property (part one)

jey uso / jimmy uso / roman reigns / solo sikoa x fem!reader  word count → 4k summary → you belong to the bloodline, in every sense of the word. and your job is to serve. links → masterlist / bloodline property (part two) tags → multiple partners, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, hair-pulling, praise kink, daddy kink, possessive behavior, hickies, dom/sub dynamics, vaginal sex, creampie, begging, light choking, crying, overstimulation

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” Jey groaned in your ear, his hands braced on either side of your head as he continued to thrust into you. You opened your legs wider to provide more access, allowing him to grind deeper, the tip of his cock now kissing your cervix. 

Jey always started with you first. He was so good at getting you open and relaxed, so much sweeter in comparison to his brothers. He was always gentle, pressing chaste kisses against your cheek as he made sure you felt good. With Jey, it wasn’t just sex. He wanted to make you happy. Wanted you to enjoy it. 

“You gon’ hurry the fuck up or what?” You heard Jimmy snap, always impatient. 

Jey threw an annoyed glance over his shoulder. “Chill out, uce. We ain’t in a rush.”

Jimmy let out a huff, pacing the length of the room in frustration. “You takin’ too fuckin’ long. She needs a real man to show her what’s up.”

Jey curled his lip, a scathing remark on his tongue, before Roman’s booming voice interrupted them. “You'll get your turn soon enough.”

You couldn’t see him, not as Jey kept you caged between his arms, impaled on his cock, but Roman's next words left no room for argument. “Enough with the bickering." 

The twins obeyed, though you could still see the annoyance on Jey’s face as he looked back down at you. 

“Just ignore him, babygirl,” he whispered, peppering your neck with soft kisses. “You know I ain’t gon’ leave you hangin’. You know I always give you whatchu want.”

He always did. 

You felt his hand reach down between the two of you, his long fingers finding that small, sensitive bud with ease. You felt sparks shoot down your spine at his touch, your legs falling open further just so you could feel more. 

He chuckled against your skin, picking up the pace of both his hips and his fingers, pushing you closer and closer to your release. 

He leaned up and brushed his lips against yours. They were soft, his kiss gentle as he continued to fuck into you, his fingers playing so perfectly with your clit that you found yourself writhing against him. 

You threw your head back and searched for Roman, your mouth open as soft moans fell from your lips. 

“Please, Daddy,” you begged, your thighs beginning to shake. “Please, can I come?” 

The Tribal Chief was the only one who could grant you permission and you were pleased when you heard him off to the side, out of your line of vision, say, “You can come, pretty girl.”

The orgasm was perfect. It always was with Jey. Pleasure unfurled from your core as you sank deeper into the mattress, your muscles relaxing as the tension released. Jey wasn’t far behind, his hips stuttering against yours. 

“Gonna fill you up, babygirl,” he gasped in your ear and that was the only warning you got before you felt him paint your walls white, warmth spreading inside of you at the feeling. He let out a contented sigh, continuing to press sweet kisses into your skin. 

“You did so good, sweetheart,” he murmured, placing another kiss against your lips. You offered him a lazy smile, your eyes still glazed over from the pleasure he’d given you. 

“Alright, alright, come on, uce. Move it.” Jimmy was already at your side, shoving at Jey in an effort to get him off of you. 

Jey scowled, but he slowly pulled out of you, your body shivering from the feeling of emptiness. 

“Will you chill out for two fucking seconds? Jesus, you act like you ain’t ever gon’ get a turn.” 

“I been waitin’ all day. And I ain’t got time to sit here while you doin’…whatever that was.”

“Man, if you don’t-”

“Enough.” Roman’s voice quickly shut them up. He was used to this. The twins almost always bickered when they fucked you together. It was just their way. They were too competitive. And a little too possessive for someone they were meant to share. 

Jey threw you a cheeky wink before finally climbing off of you, Jimmy already tangling his fingers into your hair and pulling you up to meet him. 

“Been waitin’ to fuck this pretty pussy all day, little girl,” he growled, quickly hauling you to your feet. Jey preferred to fuck you in missionary, his face close to yours so he could kiss you and watch your eyes cross in pleasure. Jimmy, on the other hand, almost always fucked you from behind, holding you out on display for the entire world to see. He enjoyed grabbing you by the hair, your tits bouncing as he pounded into you from the back. 

As he manhandled you into position, you met Roman’s gaze. He was sitting in the chair near the door, watching you with hooded eyes as Jimmy shoved you forward onto the bed, his hands gripping your hips brutally as he lined up behind you. 

The Tribal Chief was generous and usually let his cousins go first on nights like this. He wasn’t hurried, knowing that you’d be begging for his cock by the end of it anyways. You may be Bloodline property, but Roman was the chief. You belonged to him. 

Jimmy pushed into you, his cock thicker than Jey’s, causing your back to arch at the feeling. He let out a chuckle, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “So fucking tight,” he hissed, beginning to pump in and out of you. “You sure you fucked her, Jey?” 

“Fuck off, man.” 

You glanced over and saw that Jey was standing near Solo, both of them watching as Jimmy pounded into you from behind. Solo was always difficult to read, his eyes dark as he stared at you. Had it been a few months ago, you wouldn’t have known what he was thinking. Now you knew that the distinctive twinkle in his eye was lust, the barest, imperceptible tick of a jaw the only sign of his impatience. 

He’d have a turn after Jimmy. That was how things usually went. If the Bloodline was anything, it was traditional. All four men were creatures of habit, which is perhaps why it hadn’t taken long for you to learn their routine, easily falling into their lifestyle. It had been difficult at first, managing all of their varying personalities, their different schedules, but you had learned. 

Now as Jimmy continued to drill into you from the back, the tug on your hair bordering on painful, you were reminded of the very first lesson you had learned with them: you belonged to the Bloodline, in every sense of the word. They had claimed you. Owned you. Body and soul. 

Jimmy shifted the angle of his hips, and you felt stars explode across your vision as he hit your g-spot with devastating accuracy, your knees almost buckling from how good it felt.

Jimmy pulled tighter on your hair and your mouth fell open, soft moans spilling from your parted lips. You heard Jimmy chuckle, his other hand gripping your hip so hard you knew it would bruise. 

“What a good slut,” he snarled, his pace relentless as he bullied you towards your next orgasm. “You gonna come on this dick?” 

You tried to nod but his grip on your hair made it impossible. Jimmy growled, smacking your ass for good measure as he kept up the brutal pace. The roughness of his thrusts combined with his incessant abuse against your g-spot had you spiraling towards orgasm. Again. 

“Please, Daddy,” you begged, meeting the Tribal Chief’s gaze as Jimmy pulled on your hair so hard again tears sprung into your eyes. “Please, can I come?”

Roman’s eyes were dark, his face unreadable as he replied. “Come again, sweetheart.” 

You felt the tension inside you snap, Jimmy wringing the orgasm from your body with each sharp thrust of his hips. Your walls contracted around him, causing him to groan. 

“That’s right, little girl. Imma finish right here inside you. Right where I belong. Fuck!” 

Jimmy yanked at your hair so hard that you were forced to stand, his hands now wrapping around your neck as he pulled you back against his chest. His grip tightened and you felt him release inside you, a new warmth spreading between your legs as he finished. 

The world was still for a moment, your ears ringing like a jet had just flown by, until Jimmy finally relaxed, slowly loosening his fingers from the tight grip he’d kept on your neck. 

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. He slowly pulled out of you, and you whimpered, feeling some of his come leak out and trickle down your leg. Jimmy chuckled, pressing another kiss into your hair. This was the only time he was sweet like his twin, the post-orgasmic bliss making him tender and soft. You melted in his arms, allowing him to lay you softly back on the bed. He gently pushed you back against a pillow, his hands warm against your heated skin. “You always so good for me, pretty girl.” 

You leaned into his touch and Jimmy smiled, brushing a few stray hairs from your face. He soon moved away, another hand now on your face, this one much bigger. 

“You feeling good, sweetheart?” The Tribal Chief’s voice was low in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as his breath fanned across your neck. “Need your Daddy to take care of you?” 

You let out a low whine, already reaching out for him, despite the gooey feeling in your arms. You heard Roman let out a chuckle, sitting up against the headboard and pulling you into his lap. You went easily, allowing his strong arms to wrap around you and bring you closer, your legs falling on either side of his hips to straddle him. 

You realized now that things were not following their usual order. Usually, it was Solo who went next, leaving hickies and marks across your neck and chest as he fucked into you. You turned around instinctively to look for him, your brow furrowed in worry. 

“Aw, you worried about Solo, babygirl?” Roman’s tone was patronizing, roughly grabbing your chin to look back at him. “Don’t want him to feel left out?” 

You whimpered as he kept a tight grip on your chin, his eyes blazing with intensity as he looked up at you. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, releasing your chin to cup your cheek. “Solo will get his turn. I just couldn’t wait any longer. You looked too perfect tonight. I just couldn’t help myself…” 

He ran his hands across your body, admiring the way you reacted to his touch, your hips already rolling forward to meet the erection that was nudging against your inner thigh. He allowed you to take what you wanted, sinking onto his cock with ease, your toes curling at the full feeling inside of you. 

“Good girl,” he praised, running his hands along your sides, his face now close to yours as he pressed sweet kisses against your jaw. “You like sitting in Daddy’s lap?” 

You nodded, reaching out to touch the beautifully sculpted muscles of his chest as you began to move your hips, never taking your eyes off his. 

The Tribal Chief was smirking at you, his large hands encircling your torso. “Such an eager slut, aren’t you, baby? Already been fucked twice and you still want more?” 

You rolled your hips again in answer to his question, the feeling of him inside you erasing all thoughts from your brain, bliss overtaking your body. He always made you feel like this, his cock so thick and long that it completely filled you up, hitting that perfect spot inside of you with every thrust, no matter the angle. You could have sworn your insides had morphed to fit him perfectly and he seemed to agree. 

“Just like you were made for me. Such a good girl for your Tribal Chief.” 

Your eyes fluttered at his praise, rolling your head back as he pressed wet kisses to your exposed neck, teeth nipping at the pulse point beneath your jaw. You felt yourself clench around him and he laughed, reaching around to grab a handful of your ass as you began to grind on top of him. 

“You gonna ride me, pretty girl?” Roman’s voice was a low growl, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. “Gonna take what you want from me?” 

“Yes, please,” you moaned, grinding further down so your clit could make contact with his skin. “Please, Daddy. I want you so bad.” 

He laughed, the sound rumbling through the large expanse of his chest. “‘Atta girl,” he praised, allowing you to control the pace. “Take what you want. I’m all yours, sweetheart.” 

Yours. Yours. Yours. 

You lifted your hips and sank down again, gratified to hear the Tribal Chief make a pleased sound beneath you. You don’t often get him to ride him like this. He’s normally grabbing you and taking what he wants, almost always manhandling you to show off his incredible strength. Seeing him laid beneath you, his arm slung lazily behind his head as he watched you bounce up and down was rare. And you wanted to enjoy it. 

You planted your hands against his tattooed chest, attempting to gain more leverage to lift yourself higher, moaning at the feeling of his dick splitting you open as you straddled him. You picked up the pace, the feeling of him inside you sending tendrils of pleasure shooting across your body. 

“That’s it,” Roman encouraged, using his free hand to keep you steady above him, his touch keeping you grounded. “Don’t hurt yourself now. I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl.” 

You obeyed, slowing your movements, but only a little. You rocked up and down, throwing your head back in pleasure. He made you feel so good. You weren’t sure how it was possible to feel this good, your skin tingling all over, soft pants falling from your open mouth as you rode him. 

“Greedy thing, ain’t she, uce?” You heard Jimmy’s voice somewhere behind you, but you could hardly focus on it, tension beginning to coil inside you for a third time as you took what the Tribal Chief offered you. 

Roman chuckled at his words, watching you with amusement as you bounced on his dick in desperation, chasing your own pleasure. 

“So greedy she needs four men to take care of her, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” 

You nodded at his words though you were having difficulty hearing him, your own heartbeat in your ears. 

Roman growled and pulled you closer, no longer lounging against the headboard as he wrapped his arms around you. This angle pushed him deeper inside and you gasped, stars exploding across your vision. 

He began moving his own hips, thrusting up into you with easy strength, one of his hands tangling in your hair. He was impossibly deep now, and you felt your pussy spasm at the feeling. 

“I know I let you fuck my cousins,” he growled in your ear, your pussy clamping down on him as he thrust into you harder. “But who do you really belong to? Who owns you, pretty girl?” 

You were barely moving on your own now, Roman now fully taking control and shoving his cock deeper and deeper into you until you felt like you might pass out. Still, you somehow found the words he wanted to hear. “You, Daddy. I belong to you.” 

The grip on your hair tightened and you felt his cock twitch inside of you. He was close. And so were you. 

“Please,” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. “Please, can I come, Daddy? Please?” 

“Come, pretty girl. Come on your Daddy’s dick.” 

This orgasm was brutal, your thighs shaking in pleasure beneath Roman’s large hands. You felt yourself gush around his massive length, triggering his own finish. You heard him let out a groan, his grip on you tightening as he came. 

He pumped a few more times into you, just to ensure that you took every last drop of his seed, before finally holding you still, his breath warm against your neck. 

“Good girl,” he praised, releasing the grip on your hair and allowing your head to fall against his shoulder. “Such a good slut. You did so well.” 

Your limbs felt heavy, your body now sensitive after three orgasms so close together. You shivered as Roman pulled out of you, more come dribbling out of your leaking cunt onto the bed below. Your breath was shaky, your muscles trembling from exertion. 

“Come get her, Solo. She’s ready for you.” 

You could barely register the Tribal Chief’s words, suddenly feeling your body being lifted off of him and into someone else’s arms. Solo’s arms. You immediately relaxed, nuzzling against his neck, body limp as he carried you. 

He set you down gently against the mattress, propping you up against a pillow before climbing on top of you without much preamble. You opened your eyes to look up at him, feeling butterflies in your stomach as you met his intense gaze. His dark eyes were fiery, his jaw clenched as he looked down at you. His gold chain dangled in front you, glinting in the bedroom light.

“Solo,” you breathed, his name easy on your lips. He hardly ever spoke to you, but you had learned that he appreciated it when you spoke to him, even if he didn’t always show it. You reached up and placed a hand against his cheek, offering him a smile. 

“She looks so fucked out, uce,” you heard one of the twins say. “Think you can get her to come again? She might be done.” 

Solo’s eyes narrowed, the only sign that he was annoyed at his brother’s words. You knew that he didn’t mind fucking you like this, your body soft and pliable beneath his large hands, so easy for him to manhandle into any position he wants.

When he pressed his thick cock into you, you felt your eyes roll back into your head, the feeling bordering the fine line between pain and pleasure. 

He was thicker than all of them and you usually had to take at least one of his brothers first just to prepare yourself. Even now you’d taken three dicks, and you still weren’t prepared for the burn as he stretched you out, small puffs of air escaping from your parted lips. 

Solo let out a low groan as he gave you another inch, his mouth already latching onto your neck as he suckled a bruise against your skin. He loved marking you up, more possessive than either of his brothers. He wanted the whole world to know that you were his, more than happy to mottle your neck and chest with bruises. He finally bottomed out and you let out a whimper at the feeling, the burn at being stretched by his massive girth positively delicious. But he didn’t move. You met his gaze and saw that he was looking at you, almost expectantly. He wanted to hear it. Wanted to know that you needed him. 

“Please, Solo,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “I need it. I need you. Please.” 

His eyes darkened and before you fully realized it, he was pulling out and ramming back in, the thrust sending tendrils of pleasure up your spine as his thick cock massaged your walls. You couldn’t help the embarrassing whine that escaped your throat, overstimulation prickling at your exhausted muscles. 

Solo continued to grind into you, his lips attaching themselves to your neck again, another bruise blossoming beneath his mouth. Solo had always been good at keeping you right on the edge between pain and pleasure, whether it was his massive cock splitting you open or his lips suckling a bruise beneath your jaw. It always left you head spinning, the feeling so euphoric that you almost feel like you’re floating. 

His teeth grazed the delicate skin against your windpipe, and you moaned again, wrapping your legs around his waist just to pull him closer to you. 

“Need you so bad, Solo,” you pleaded, looking back up at him in desperation. “Please, I can’t…I can’t-”

Another one of his thrusts had you whining, pleasure licking across your tired limbs like wildfire. Your nails dug into his shoulder as you pulled him close, the sound of his name leaving your lips spurring him on as he continued to drill into you.

Solo leaned down and you felt his lips ghost across the shell of your ear. “You want me, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice so low that only you could hear. You let out a gasp as he dragged across your g-spot, his thrusts sending you closer and closer to the edge. 

“I want you so bad,” you whimpered, pressing small kisses against his neck. “Please, I need you. Give it to me, please. Please…”

You couldn’t speak anymore. Not as his hips snapped against yours, tension growing in your abdomen at the feel of him inside you. He reached around and grabbed one of your thighs, pushing it forward to allow better access to your puffy cunt. A strangled moan escaped your lips, and you felt like he was splitting you in half, your g-spot so abused by now that you weren’t sure you could take it anymore. 

You opened your mouth, trying to form the words on your lips, but you couldn’t. Your head felt empty, Solo’s cock pistoning in and out of you with such force that you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk again for days. 

“Daddy,” you managed to whisper, your eyes glazing over as Solo grunted, raising up your other leg to push you into a full mating press. A strangled scream ripped from your throat and tears sprung into your eyes. You were completely helpless beneath him now, pinned to the bed beneath his massive weight, his cock feeling like it was sawing you in half. 

The tension inside you was coiling again, but you still couldn’t find the words to ask for permission, your head feeling as though it were stuffed with cotton. There was only one word you could think of. 

“Daddy.” 

You repeated his name like a mantra, your body no longer your own as Solo drilled into you, your legs next to your ears. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” 

You heard the Tribal Chief’s voice and almost wept at the sound. 

“Daddy, please.” You still couldn’t find the words, your eyes unable to focus on anything except Solo’s dark eyes, dangerously close to the edge of your fourth orgasm. 

“Use your words, princess. What do you need?” The Tribal Chief’s voice was soft, and you felt your entire body tense. 

“I can’t…” You gasped, Solo’s face blurring as tears began to fall. “Please…I can’t…” 

“Yes, you can.” Roman’s voice was firmer now, and you knew it would displease him if you came without permission. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.” 

Solo’s hand found your clit and you screamed again, though this time you used your words. “Please, can I come? Please, please, please.” 

“Come, slut.” 

Your vision went white. The pleasure was so intense that your entire body shook, walls spasming helplessly around Solo’s massive cock. You wanted to move, but you were still pinned to the bed, your feet still by your ears as Solo held you down. You were vaguely aware of the sounds you were making, alternating between high-pitched whines and fucked-out whimpers. You might have been embarrassed if it didn’t feel so fucking good. 

“So fuckin’ pretty when you come,” Solo grunted in your ear, finally spilling into you as he chased his own pleasure, coating your insides with his seed. 

You weren’t sure what happened after that. Your vision was blurry with tears, your throat hoarse from your screams. You felt Solo finally release you, leaning up and allowing your legs to fall back onto the bed. You felt his come trickle from your abused hole, all mixed together from the multiple loads you’d taken from his brothers and cousin. 

You felt someone’s lip on your forehead, pressing a tender kiss to your fevered brow. “Such a good girl.” he murmured, his tone soft. “You serve my bloodline so well.” 

[caramelcleopatraa]

"I want to sit on your face" ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

another porn with a atom's amount of plot

word count: 1,500~

x: !this is not proofread! 😭 please disregard any mistakes <3 I came up with this idea before my current series "suit & tie", but I never got to finish it.... until now 😏 hopefully you guys enjoy this (not quick) quick thing I whipped up.

content: oral ( f receiving )

“Baby…”

“Yes?” Roman responds with curiosity in his eyes. You had been daydreaming about a specific situation. It was almost disturbing the flow of your daily life. Your husband was always up for trying new things. You've brought up ideas to him that have led to countless nights of exhilarating love making. You didn't know why you were so nervous to tell him something so simple. Perhaps it comes with your own matter of insecurities that stopped you from telling him your newly proposed idea. “Nevermind, sorry to bother you.” You turned your back to his desk to walk out of the double doors of your home office. Roman noticed your sudden change in energy and decided to chase after you. His hand gently, but firmly, latched onto your wrist and tugged you towards him. Your back hit his sturdy torso and his hands interlaced with yours. “What’s going on? Y’know you can tell me.”

“U-uhm.. Uh…” Your heart was starting to race and your breathing became heavy. You tried to walk away from him, but you must have forgotten who you married. “Nuh uh, stay right here. Tell me what’s on your mind.” 

“Aren’t you in the middle of some work?” 

“Work doesn’t matter when my wife needs me.” He tenderly kisses the side of your neck and his hands rest on your hips. A tactic he used to calm you down when you're nervous. Just as he was about to console you, you spoke up. “Can we try something tonight?” Romans eyes locked with yours and he already knew what you were insinuating. He took your hand and led you upstairs to your bedroom. All of his movements were slow, but sure and tender. All thoughts of work were left downstairs. His focus was on making sure he could make your fantasies come true tonight. He sat on your bed and held both of your hands in his. His thumbs worked over your soft skin as his chocolate eyes looked up at yours. “Alright. What fun things have you thought of to try today, princess?” 

“I don’t know how to say this so that it sounds normal.” You nervously laugh and he joins you in laughter. Still massaging your hands, he says “Well you know i'm not gonna judge you.” “Yeah, I know” You took a deep breath and gathered the courage you needed to say the next sentence that came out of your mouth. “I want to sit on your face. But I don't really know how it’s supposed to work. Like am I supposed to completely sit or ho-” Your body was suddenly caged by Roman’s arms as he pulled you on to the bed. It wasn't long until your lips connected, cutting off your nervous rambling. Your lips danced in an intimate fight for dominance against him, in which you lost. Pulling away from him, you were finally able to get a glimpse of him. His once gentle eyes were low and dark, and laced with lust. He let go of your body, allowing you to rest next to him. He scoots all the way back to the headboard and puts his head on a pillow. He motions you to come over to him and you crawl to meet him.

‘Sit.” He says. You look at him with a surprised look on your face. Again, his hands imitate a “come hither” motion. You slowly straddle his chest and move to hover above his face. His hands dig into your plush thighs as he admires your body from below.

“So umm.. Am I supposed to-”

“Sit on my face”

“Like fully sit?” The tone in your voice shifts to a more confused one.

“Yes mama”

“What if I'm too heavy and you can't breathe?”

“Mama, I wrestle grown ass men for a living. And I'll tap your thigh if I need some air.”

His lips kissed and sucked at the inside of your thighs. “Stop worrying so much. Be a good girl and let daddy eat his pussy.” Soft moans escaped your mouth while he worked his way up your thighs. His thumb creeped up to your aching clit, softly rubbing up and down while continuing to kiss and suck on your thighs. Your head tilted back as you held onto his wrists. You started to grind against his thumb, but Roman grabbed your hips and held them in place. 

“Uh-uh. On my face.” His grip loosened, but his hands landed on your thighs and pushed you down. His arms snaked around your thighs, making it impossible for you to escape if you tried. You didn’t have enough time to process what happened, but a long stripe on your cunt fogged your brain in the best possible way. Once his tongue reached your clit, he planted a tender kiss before sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue. His hands massaged your thighs while he continued to work his magic. He rotated between teasing you with long stripes up your cunt and ruthlessly abusing your clit. 

Roman’s grip on your thighs still restricted much of your movement. You tried your hardest not to grind against his tongue, but the way he was eating you up made it damn near impossible. His hair laid sprawled out on the pillow below him. His right hand let go of your thigh and quickly slapped your ass, startling you and causing you to jump. “Fuck baby,” You moaned, loving the temporary sting on your ass. After a couple more slaps to your ass, his hand returned to its original place, hugging your thigh and holding you in place. His eyes would remain on you and momentarily close while he relished the taste of your pussy, and the loud slurping sounds he was making added on to your arousal. 

You finally succumbed and softly grinded on his tongue. A salacious moan from him vibrated your clit. In return, your moans started to get louder. You tilted your head down and locked eyes with your lover beneath you. You placed your hands on his while you continued to ride his face. You could see droplets of your juices running down his face. He gives you three taps on your thigh and you immediately rise off of his face with concern. He takes a couple of deep breaths while still keeping his hands on you. “I’m so sorry, did you not want me to do that? i’m sorry i got carried away-“

You take a moment to look at Roman. His beard is littered and decorated with your juices and he keeps eye contact with your pussy the entire time he wasn’t devouring you. “Just need a couple of breaths mama. That’s all,” He says, his eyes finally meeting your beautiful ones. The collective heavy breathing occupied the silence for a couple of seconds before you felt those same hands pulling you down to his mouth. “Don’t mean i’m done. C’mere, need to eat that pussy,” He says, before you’re forced to sit on what will be your new favorite seat. Your consistent babbles and whines only made him harder, making him eat your pussy like a starved man. He loves taking care of his baby. Whether that’s pounding you into the mattress or eating you out until you drench the sheets, it was his favorite thing ever. Seeing you lose your mind because of the things he does to you makes him so ecstatic. 

“Got me addicted to this pussy.” He knew that you loved it when he talked you through it. Every chance that he got, he was gonna talk his shit, and it never failed to make you weak. “aah- oohhh shiiiit daddy you finna- ffuuck make me cum.” He moans into your pussy, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips were moving nonstop and you couldn’t stop calling his name. You pried his fingers off of your thighs and intertwined his fingers with yours. His arms were still hugging your thighs in place, and yes, you had the headboard to hold if you lost balance. You wanted to hold him instead. “Ohh myy goddd, daddyy. I’m cummin,” You said, slurring your words due to your mind fogging orgasm. Your movements became uneven and Roman’s hold on your thighs tightened to keep you in place. You let out screams of bliss while Roman lapped up your release, while any remainders he missed landed in his beard. Roman’s hands roamed your lower body as low whines escaped your mouth. He pushed up your hips a little to plant loving kisses on your pussy. “How did I do?”

“Fuck, that was amazing,” You said between ragged breaths. Roman’s deep chuckle vibrated through your body, adding to the intimate atmosphere. You attempted to lay next to him but his hands dug into your skin, preventing you from moving.

“I’m still hungry mama.”

finished this while I was at work :p (so happy that I work at a family business or I would've never finished this today)

🏷️ tags :) @harmshake @jeyusos-girl @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede

~ your hippie author

[gilverrwrites]

Spicy* / Smutty**

Pre-2023 Master-list

[Click here]

[Click Here]

Coming out of retirement What I don't understand Meet Ugly [Part 2] Fake Dating First time vibrator (on him)** Seduction** Personas** Tan Lines* Teasing in public* Being interupted by the kids Character headcanons NSFW Alphabet** Clit slapping** Subby** Sex Pollen* A dire need** (more sex pollen)

Asks:

X-ray** Roman Sionis' ex wife** Secretary** (and more sex pollen) [P2] Comforting you through it** With a robot-girl

Say His Name* P2: Call me Tim** Dream a little dream of me** A kiss for the caged bird** Attention** Ice Cream Teasing in public* Boxers Fake Dating Orange-tiled shower Clit slapping** Roaming eyes & twitching fingers* Swatches of pink and red** Take your mind off it*

Asks:

X-ray** Praise,** P2** Kink Headcanons** Sionis!Reader: Academic Rivals to lovers P2 Sleepy voice* TimKon 3-way* Pegging** [Nightwing centric] World's Worst Big Brother** ↪ More on that first night & Tim finding out** Fuck or die w Black Mask** Battle Staff**

Paddling Pool Teasing in public* First time vibrator (on him)** Clit slapping** Prince Charming Two wrongs**

Asks:

Hands** X-ray** Pining Home made toys* Dick sharing you with Roy**

Dickies Mom has got it goin' on Fuck, Marry, Kill BirdFlash 3-Way** With Bows On** [ft. Nightwing] Tease*

Asks:

I just love Wally West** Baby fever*

Newbie** [Red kryptonite] You look good underneath him**

Asks:

X-Ray** Kon's pussy** [X] [X] [X] ↪ Ft. Tim** Accent** Tentacles** Riding his pierced tongue**

Gotham Men in bed** Fake Dating senarios with the birds and the bats Meet Uglies Bat Feeder Accidental poly Boostle WIP Dump**

[janiehellion]

Fallen From Grace

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Caught between a loveless marriage and a past you can't forget, you return to LA, the City of Angels. As old flames rekindle, you're faced with the consequences of your choices. Would you still make a decision that could destroy everything you've built over the years to experience the emotions you've longed for? “For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.” (Romans 7:19)

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / HURT / FLUFF / ANGST

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.277

MASTERLIST

With your hands deep in the pockets of your jacket, your face buried in a thin scarf, and the warmth of your breath that was soaking into it, it was making you shiver, and your thoughts were thrown back to the ritual of smoking a cigarette. The need to smoke bit into you; thinking of lighting one was still addictive and punishing at the same time. It had been years since you quit smoking, right before you got married to your husband, because he had always hated the smell. Still, your husband was behind you and always had your back regarding your decision to turn your life around, and he became a shoulder to lean on in the change from a reckless young adult into a now responsible and mature woman.

But lately, this routine that you once liked so much seemed to turn into a cage with no way out. The fights with your husband had become more frequent, and his constant work stress added more to the high tension between the two of you. You both were too tired to talk openly to each other anymore and with the same empathy that used to exist. Last night was pretty much no different. A silent dinner, a few short words exchanged between the two of you, and some annoyed glances at each other, until he then got up and went to his laptop in the living room, while you went to the bedroom to read one of your books.

It was days like this, where you felt overwhelmed by your life, that your mind began to wander back to him, to Lucifer Morningstar. You had left Los Angeles almost ten years ago to chase your dreams, leaving him and everything else behind after you came to the realization that it felt more like a simple friendship to you, which had scared you more than it should have. Although you had kept in touch by texting each other every now and then, you hadn't talked to or seen each other in years.

The sun was now setting as you got into your car, and you knew that the decision to visit the City of Angels once again came from some deep, restless part inside of you, and you convinced yourself it wouldn't be a mistake before sliding off your wedding ring and letting it fall into one of your pockets.

Suddenly, a message from your husband appeared on your phone. Apparently, he won’t be home for dinner tonight. He was staying out late with a colleague. Relief washed over you as you replied with an excuse about having decided that you were going out with your best friends anyway before you set the car in motion and headed towards Los Angeles.

A few hours later, you saw the familiar evening lights of what you once called home. You aimed for the LUX, the spot that Lucifer owned. Soon enough, your eyes scanned the room, looking for the one person you hoped to see as you exchanged a few words with familiar faces, but your mind was solely focused on Lucifer.

And there he was. The presence of him hit you hard—the lights, the music... It was overwhelming, and you quickly made your way to the bar, where you sat down. The face beside you? Familiar. She hadn't changed a bit, still looking fierce and gorgeous.

Maze immediately looked at you, recognizing you quickly. "There's no way... is it? Is it really you?"

"Hello, Maze," you said, nodding in her direction and smiling at her.

"It’s been a while! Ten years?"

"Close enough."

She whistled. "Lucifer’s going to freak out when he sees you; you know that, right?"

You smiled again, taking a sip of the drink that she handed you. "Where is he now?"

"I don't know. Probably around somewhere and probably smoking."

Your heart raced as you tried to control your excitement and nervousness. You sipped your drink further, trying your hardest to distract yourself. Then the door opened, and you felt that familiar presence. The smell of cigarettes and cologne hit you, making you grip your glass tighter.

"Now, look who’s graced us with his divine presence," Maze announced almost sarcastically.

You turned around, and there he was—Lucifer Morningstar. His eyes met yours with shock before he tried to hide it like usual. He wore his trademark suit, the one that always made him look like he owned the world.

"What in the world are you doing here?"

"Hello, Lucifer. Have you lost your manners in the last decade?"

"I just didn’t expect you."

"You didn’t have to. I just stopped by."

Lucifer only grunted and sat down next to you for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. He took a whiskey Maze handed him and sipped it, his silence speaking volumes.

"I just needed to get away, you know," you started, but trailed off, knowing he would see right through you.

"Finish your drink. I don’t want to talk here."

You nodded, finishing your drink quickly. Lucifer was tapping the counter impatiently, and Maze gave you a knowing look as you left. "Good luck, babe," she mouthed, winking at you.

You followed Lucifer into the elevator and then to the parking lot. Right now, his attitude annoyed you, since he used to be so different with you back then, and as soon as you were outside, he stopped and turned around to you.

"Where's your car? I will hold the door open for you."

"What? Excuse me, please? What did you just say?"

He only smirked slightly instead of answering you as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. So you approached him slowly, placing a hand on his arm and feeling his muscles through his suit.

"I just thought you might want to see me again," you said softly, looking down to the ground.

"Do you think I’m not happy to see you?"

"The way you’re reacting right now, wanting me to get into my car and leave? No, not exactly."

"I just didn’t expect to see you again in LA. You simply surprised me."

You continued holding his arm, squeezing it a bit. "I simply missed you. Is it that wrong?"

"Your fault," he mumbled, finally lighting a cigarette. He took a drag and offered it to you. "Want one?"

"No, I quit years ago, don't you remember?"

He raised an eyebrow. "And do you still always do what your boyfriend wants? Do you follow his rules? Do you obey him?"

"Don’t be an asshole, Lucifer. It’s just complicated, okay?"

He handed you the cigarette anyway, and with a sigh, you took a drag. He leaned against your car, looking out over the city. The lights of Los Angeles twinkled like a thousand little stars.

"You’ve changed," he said after a minute, watching you from the corner of his eyes.

"I never changed. I grew only up."

"No, you’ve changed."

"I’m still me, just... older."

You stood in silence. Lucifer had always been a man of few words around you, but he said so much merely by being there.

"Why didn’t he come with you?" he suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

"He’s busy, working on a case."

"How did you end up with a lawyer, I wonder?"

"If you knew him, you’d understand. He’s dedicated, passionate, even."

"He took you away."

"I know. And that wasn’t my intention."

"Aren’t you here to find yourself again?" Lucifer asked, looking at you for a moment.

"No…"

"Then why? Tell me."

"I'm here because of you, Lucifer. I needed to talk. To feel at home again."

"You can't just show up out of nowhere and expect everything to be the same as it was before."

"I did it without thinking."

"You, who plans everything down to the last detail, doing something spontaneous?"

"I just wanted to see my best friend again."

But Lucifer was right, and you knew it. It was strange to be back in Los Angeles without having really thought about it or thought of any consequences. But the feeling you had in your soul blurred every logical thought.

He suddenly grabbed your hand and walked you toward his car.

"What are you doing? Where are we going?" You asked, but didn't fight him.

"It's a surprise. Just wait and see."

"A surprise? What's the plan?"

"Be quiet and sit tight." Lucifer grinned as he started the car.

After the silent ride in the car, you reached the outskirts of a familiar area, where he soon led you through a wrought-iron gate to a small, charming house with a great view of a lake. The very first things that caught your eye were a marble kitchenette and a leather sofa facing a TV that was mounted on the wall, but most especially so, the floor-to-ceiling window leading out to a terrace and the lake that looked nearly as big as the house itself.

"Is this a new place of yours?" you asked him.

"Yes, indeed, it is," Lucifer confirmed with pride. "But that is not the actual surprise. Follow me." He guided you out onto the terrace. "It's a little dark already, but can you recognize the view? Do you remember it?"

You furrowed your brow, following his gaze, and gasped as you finally realized and remembered. "Is this the place that I think it is?"

"Yes, the very spot where we spent that beautiful evening," Lucifer confirmed. "I simply thought you might appreciate the nostalgia and that I bought this place in the end."

"But how did you manage to rebuild all this?" you asked, quite overwhelmed.

"Hard work and a bit of devilish charm," he teased, turning to face you and smirking at your reaction.

You remembered that night clearly—with just Lucifer and yourself—when you were talking about your dreams and your future under the starry sky.

"This is incredible! I'm so happy for you, Lucifer," you admitted, though tears were forming in your eyes.

"You're happy for me because I bought this place?" Lucifer's eyes softened, searching for yours while he asked. "Then why do I think there's more to it than that? More than simple happiness?"

You turned away from him, blinking back tears. "Forget about it. I'm sorry; I didn't want to ruin your surprise."

Lucifer closed the distance between you quickly; his face was serious but still calm and composed. "Will you tell me why you really left back then? I don't really believe that your boyfriend could hold that much power to rip you away from everything that was so loved by you."

"You know exactly why I left," you finally said, looking at him again.

"Sure... Of course, I do. Because I always do." Lucifer answered with disappointment in his voice.

You nodded slowly, biting down on your lower lip, unsure how to proceed. "I think that I probably should go home," you whispered, the guilt creeping in, just wanting to drive back home to your apartment and forget about everything.

But Lucifer clenched his fists. "Perhaps you should, yes," he agreed reluctantly, taking a step closer to you. "But not before this," he mumbled, closing the distance between your lips.

Lucifer crashed his lips onto yours, pushing you back against the patio door. There was no denying at this point—this was so much more than just a friendly reunion. It was bringing back to life a love where the flame had never actually gone out.

He broke away slightly as he led you back into the house, his hands removing your jacket, and soon enough Lucifer loomed over you inside his bedroom, his eyes searching yours for permission and reassurance. You nodded, and he kissed you again—deeply and almost desperately.

His hands were touching your body as his lips nuzzled kisses down your neck, and you could feel your body arch into him, begging for more, which was enough for the two of you to quickly get rid of each other's clothes.

"I can't wait any longer," Lucifer confessed, his eyes locked with yours.

You met his gaze, your heart racing as you nodded, and he smiled, slowly guiding you onto the bed. His touch was almost soft as he positioned you beneath him.

For a moment, Lucifer looked at you, mumbling, "You are more beautiful than ever."

You blushed, goosebumps creeping onto your skin as his fingertips brushed along your collarbone and slowly down your arm until he kissed the inside of your wrist delicately.

"You're exquisite," he said softly before his lips traveled up your arm again, across your shoulder, and onto the curve of your neck.

He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, before his lips finally kissed your own. His mouth moved slowly against yours, listening to each sigh that came out of your mouth. You reached for his arms, bringing his hands to your tits, where his fingers gently squeezed them, his thumbs lightly stroking your sensitive nipples and feeling them harden.

Once done, Lucifer's hands went down to your waist, pulling you up to straddle him. He slowly lowered you down onto his cock and pushed himself into you. His eyes didn't leave yours as he moved in very slowly, filling you up completely.

"You feel incredible," he groaned, his hands holding your hips tightly. "I've wanted this for so long."

You began moving, your body slowly going up and down as you leaned forward just a little bit with your hands on his shoulders for balance as you were riding him, and Lucifer's hands slid up your back until he pulled you close, burying his face in your neck.

"You're so perfect," he murmured. "Every part of you is."

You shivered at his words and moaned softly as his hands now moved down to your stomach from your breasts, then back to your thighs, and though the moments were stretching on, Lucifer's thrusts were still gentle instead of fast and rough.

"You're simply amazing," he whispered in your ear. "I want to make you feel everything."

His words only heightened your lust, and you rode him even more eagerly until both of you were breathless, wanting more.

But Lucifer's eyes stayed on your face. "I wish this would last forever," he whispered.

You moaned again and closed your eyes, your body quickening in time with his upward thrusts as you both felt your approaching orgasm.

His thrusts grew urgent, his hands gripping you a little bit harder to guide you through the final moments before you came, and Lucifer's body shuddered against yours.

As soon as your orgasms began to subside, Lucifer's thrusts did likewise. He embraced you tightly, stroking your back, and kissed your forehead softly. "I have missed you more than you know."

You clung to him, your racing heart only now starting to slow down. "I've missed you too," you whispered, your voice shaking, before tensing up as a certain thought inside your head started to form itself, your eyes narrowing.

"Protection! I... I didn't think of—" You started, but your words seemed to be stuck in your throat. "I'm sorry, Lucifer. I should have been more careful!"

"Don't worry about it right now, my dear. Focus only on us. and this moment," he simply answered without any care, but you ignored his words, and just then your eyes fell on something that lay on the ground beside your clothes; his eyes followed in the same direction—your wedding ring, which you had left carelessly in one of your pockets. His eyes went from that ring to you, and only then did he realize what was actually on your mind.

"Wait, wait, wait," he whispered quietly, furrowing his brow as he pushed you off, got up, and picked up the ring slowly from the floor. "You... you're married to him? What? You're actually still with him? Are you kidding me?"

Your face went pale, and you couldn't deny the truth, nor was there any reason to try to lie to him. "Yes, I am, but—"

"But what!" He cut you off. "Is this some kind of devil's bargain? Did you come here to light up an old flame, all the while you're still wearing another man's ring? Is this some kind of sick joke to you?"

"No, no! Listen, Lucifer! Listen to me! I didn't come here to hurt you," you tried to explain, your voice breaking. "I came because I missed you and—"

"Missed me?" He laughed out loud and shook his head. "You come back into my life, get me all worked up, and then this? Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I must be quite the fool for thinking that you actually came back for me after ten years. How foolish I am, indeed."

"Listen! You don't understand! Just calm down and listen to me, please!" you pleaded, your face now red with tears that started to roll down your cheeks. "I never meant for this to happen! You know that! It just happened!"

"Never meant for it to happen?" Lucifer scoffed, anger suddenly giving way to a mocking laugh. "Oh, please, my dear. You do think this is some kind of joke, don't you? Did you come back just to test my patience?"

He turned away from you—his hurt was obvious as he threw your wedding ring across his bedroom. "How very amusing," he said bitterly. "A married woman who seeks out the Devil."

You reached out to him, your voice desperate, but he didn't let you touch him anymore. "Please, Lucifer, don't be like this. I never wanted to hurt you, I promise!"

He turned toward you again. "Don't be like this, you say? What did you expect? Should I just take this as some cruel joke of, what, fate? You think I should simply forgive and forget just because you come at me with a few tears and your excuses?

He had picked up a cigarette from the package lying on the side table of the bed and grabbed a lighter. "Here's a solution for you," he said, lighting the cigarette. "Why don't you go back home to your husband? I'm sure he's just waiting for you to come crawling back into his arms, so you can do what he wants some more."

You winced at the mockery and sarcastic tone in his voice. "Lucifer, please don't—"

"Don't what?" he interrupted you again. "What is it, huh? Don't you want me to remind you of the mistake you've just made? Don't make you face the reality of your actions? Of our... situation?"

He took another drag from the cigarette. "How amusing," he said bitterly. "I've spent most of my time in Hell, and with you, I finally got a taste of Heaven again, only to have it taken away from me in an instant..."

He flicked the cigarette into an ashtray, letting it go out by itself as it continued to burn down. "I'm supposed to be the Devil," he said, his lips now showing a rather sad and hurt smile. "But right now, I feel like I am the biggest fool in all of creation there ever was..."

The silence fell between you, and there, in his eyes, was only hurt, pain, and pure anger.

"I'm so sorry for everything, Lucifer. I never wanted to hurt you, really! Just believe me! Please!" You pleaded and begged.

He sat down at the edge of the bed, his anger now replaced by sadness, especially given the look on his face. "So, now what?" he asked. "What do you think happens to us after all this?"

"I don't know," you said, your voice trembling as you took a deep breath. "I wish things could be different, but they aren't. Believe me, I know this was wrong. I was wrong."

Lucifer took a deep breath as well to try to relax himself and calm down. "Well, wishing won't do anything, nor will prayers," he said, getting to his feet. "And if you want me to be completely honest, then I think you should leave."

You realized you were feeling regret—this was the end of what could have been all along, what could've been all those years ago. "I'm so sorry, Lucifer," you said again, through the tears that were now streaming down your face. "I wish there was a way..."

He smiled at you sadly and shrugged, handing you your clothes. "Here's to the past," he said bitterly. "May it stay there."

You took them from him, brushing your fingers across his while doing so, and began dressing quickly. "Goodbye, Lucifer," you said softly, your voice cracking again.

"Goodbye," he replied as his eyes watched you walk towards the door and into the living room. The taxi was called quickly, and you turned to go out of the front door, but you stopped for a second, turning around to the bedroom door again that he was about to close. "Go on and don't keep the taxi driver waiting."

After he closed the door, you quickly grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a note, tears falling onto the paper and smudging the ink. You left it on the coffee table and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind you. The street was already dark, with only a few lights on each side of the road, and you quickened your pace to the main road. After a few minutes, you could finally see the approaching lights of a taxi.

The taxi driver soon enough returned you to your car, which was still parked in the LUX. Once inside your car, you glanced at the time, which was approaching midnight, and then you noticed the three messages from your husband and some missed calls from him that you quickly opened nervously.

9:42 PM: "Where are you? I'm back, and you're not here."

10:39 PM: "When are you coming back? Why don’t you answer? I’m worried."

11:16 PM: "I called your friends, but they said you weren't even with them tonight. What's going on? Please call me!"

Tears silently rolled down your face again as guilt consumed you. How had things gone so wrong? Your life had been perfect—or so you thought all the time. You’d spent the last ten years forgetting about your feelings for Lucifer, pushing them aside, and now, in one evening, you’d destroyed everything.

With trembling fingers, you tried calling your husband, but there was no answer. The worst part of this whole mess wasn’t just that you’d probably destroyed your life, but how little you’d considered the consequences of your actions with Lucifer in the first place. If karma were real, you thought, you’d crash while driving back home. But two hours later, you found yourself standing in the parking lot of your apartment again.

Entering it quietly and closing the door behind you, you saw your husband asleep on the big couch in your living room, his mobile phone still next to him. With one hand, you covered your mouth to stifle a sob, not wanting to wake him up, and you paused, uncertain of what to do, then slowly removed your jacket, throwing it over a chair, and decided to lay down beside him.

You couldn't help but remember how you both had always been a great team, at least at the start of your relationship back then, facing the darkest moments and hours together and supporting each other through thick and thin. He’d always been there for you; maybe he's been too distant at times, but he's been there nonetheless.

And now your endless thoughts about your mistake kept you awake until exhaustion finally took over. Later, when you woke up, your husband was gone. You hoped it had all been a bad nightmare, but the note on the table proved otherwise:

"When I get back from work, you tell me what the hell happened! And don’t even try to call me today! We'll sit down and talk in person."

You stared at the note, rereading it several times before crumpling it and throwing it on the floor in frustration. You grabbed your coat and left, not even bothering to look in the mirror. At the pharmacy, you were quick, buying what you needed before heading back home. Once sitting down on the couch, staring at the morning-after pill on the table, you knew you should take it right away, but something inside you held you back.

Your eyes kept wandering around, seeking distraction, but just as you were about to scream, the doorbell rang, making you jump. You tried to calm yourself before opening the door, but it wasn’t your husband who you thought might have left his keys behind. Standing there was Lucifer, who decided to step inside your apartment without even waiting for an invitation.

"What in the world are you doing here?" you asked, staring at him while closing the front door.

Lucifer pulled a crumpled note from his pocket—the note you had left for him. "Why do I have to read such nonsense?"

He held up the note before reading it out loud.

"Lucifer, the heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it? I wish I could."

"Lucifer," you began, but he cut you off.

"Well, isn’t this poetic? The Book of Jeremiah—17:9 to be exact!" His voice sounded neutral, but you could see the fire in his eyes. "I guess the Devil isn’t the only one who’s capable of deceit, isn't he? How charming that you choose to repent now, but I’m afraid it won’t absolve you of the choices you made, my dear... I do admire your attempt at biblical drama! Quite charming, isn't it?"

Your hands were now sweaty, and your heart pounded so fast that you thought it was going to explode. "Lucifer, please..." You managed to whisper, but he shook his head.

"I suppose that’s the true nature of humans, isn’t it? Always seeking redemption when it suits them." His voice relaxed slightly, but the intensity behind it remained, and only then did he grab something from his pocket again. It was your wedding ring. "I’m not a priest, my dear. You know exactly who I am, and I won’t be so easily fooled by your attempts at repentance. I'd say that you owe me more than that."

You had barely started to open your mouth when the sound of keys at the door made you turn around in shock. You looked over just in time to see your husband standing there, his face full of anger and surprise at the same time.

"What the hell is that man doing here?" he asked, staring at you.

"Listen! It's not what you think," you started, but your voice cracked, unable to find the right words to even explain yourself.

Meanwhile, Lucifer gave him an almost bored look and crossed his arms over his chest. "Ah, the husband has finally arrived! How very delightful," he said. "I'm Lucifer, and you must've forgotten about me, I see!"

Your husband glared at him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, I certainly wasn't expecting to be welcomed with open arms by the man of the hour. But then again, I've never been one to shy away from a bit of chaos."

You took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on the situation. "Listen, we need to talk..."

But your husband's eyes were still on Lucifer, looking him up and down. "About what? How obviously you have been cheating on me?"

You winced at the accusation, but Lucifer merely laughed. "Cheating? Now, that's a rather strong word. I prefer to think of it as rekindling old flames."

Your husband's hands clenched into fists, and he let out a scoff. "You! You have no right to be here. Leave. Now."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, and for a slight moment, he revealed what really lay beneath. "How quaint! I assure you, I'm only a catalyst. Or, let's just say, the devil's advocate, if you will."

Your husband took a step back, his face turning pale for a second. "What the fuck are you trying to pull here, huh?"

Lucifer stepped closer to him, his smile turning into a grin as he pointed to the pill on the table in the living room, which he had noticed all along. "That little token of affection over there might reveal more with its symbolism than you may realize."

The eyes of your husband went to the pill on the table and then back to Lucifer. "What... what do you mean? What the hell are you even talking about?"

Lucifer's smile widened as he leaned forward. "Why don't you take a guess? Or maybe you would prefer to leave it to your imagination?"

"My imagination? You're obviously fucking my wife, and now you are standing here like you have some right to her? As if you own her?"

Lucifer let out a dramatic sigh. "Well, I suppose you could say I am more of an old flame to your dear wife. But let's not get down to the boring details."

Suddenly, your husband stepped forward, his anger overflowing. "Get out of my house. Now!"

"Oh, such a fiery temper. Are you sure you're not harboring a bit of Hellfire yourself?" Lucifer said sarcastically and threw his hands dramatically in the air.

The eyes of your husband widened again, and he took a step back as soon as he could while he looked into his eyes. "I'm warning you. Just leave..."

Lucifer's eyes changed, his stare reaching deep into your husband's soul. "And I assure you that I'm not someone that you want to provoke."

He took a step closer, and your husband's confidence broke down as he looked him in the eyes. "You know what? I'm done with this. I'm leaving! Don't you dare touch me, whatever the hell you are!"

Lucifer's eyes followed him, and he smirked proudly. "As you wish."

The apartment was almost completely silent as the door slammed shut behind your husband, and you stood there, paralyzed, the realization of that moment and what had just happened finally setting in, but Lucifer snapped you out of it as he looked at the morning-after pill on the table once again.

"My dear, really? Do you think that this pill is going to undo what's done now?" Lucifer started. "Do you actually believe that some sort of pill will stop something divine, like... Oh, I don't know, my touch, as an example? I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, darling."

You looked at him with shame, lust, and regret in your eyes. "What now?" You asked him, whispering silently.

"What happens now will be entirely your choice," he said, moving closer to you and stretching out his hand to touch your cheek. "You see, I very much adore you, and I have for quite a while."

His hands were soft but strong, and a shiver ran down your spine. "You can either act like nothing happened, or maybe you can accept it and see where it takes you," he said, his eyes locked on yours. "You've got a choice to make."

He stepped closer, his lips touching your ear as he spoke. "You could try to forget about the night we just had, but you and I both know better. The seed has been sown, and the question is, at this point, whether you'll let it grow."

Lucifer took a few steps back and pushed the front door open, just enough to fit through. "Whatever you choose, I will be here, waiting. And trust me," he said with a smirk, "I have all the time in the world."

[heavenlytouches]

I saw your Gladiator II posr about Marcus Acacius. Can you do one for emperor Geta? Maybe like, his wife doing his makeup or something? Thanksies much

Hello sweetie!! Thank you so much for a sweet request! Ofc I can, I would love to write something about our ginger boi! I hope you'll like it <3 El <3

Emperor Geta- a crown of laurel

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

FEM reader

<3 (SFW)

TW- none

HUSBAND! Geta

Helping your husband put on his diva makeup

Emperor Geta

You stand in the dimly lit chamber of Emperor Geta, a space filled with opulence tinged with a sense of foreboding. Rich crimson drapes hang from the intricately etched walls, adding to the weightiness that comes with ruling an empire. The air smells faintly of myrrh and olive oil, infused with the tension that accompanies the daily grind of power.

Geta, tall and stoic, sits before a bronze mirror, his ginger hair untamed and wild. The scowl on his face is deep-set, revealing the grumpiness that the empire has come to know, but as you approach, that familiar warmth accompanies you.

You kneel beside him and gently coax his tousled hair into place, your fingers slipping through the strands as you breathe in the earthy smell of him.

“Stop that!”

He grumbles, though the corner of his lips betrays a tiny smirk.

“You’re making me look too presentable.”

“Not possible, my love.”

You respond, a playful lilt in your voice that causes his eyes to soften just the tiniest bit.

“Besides, you’ve got to look magnificent for the people. They expect it.”

He rolls his eyes, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“The people? I’d be better off in the arena with a band of lions than attempting to please that crowd.”

“And yet, you still go out and face them every day. You feel the weight of their expectations, yes?”

“Expectations?”

He growls, his eyes flashing with the familiar fire.

“You mean their incessant need to be entertained. They see me as a man of strength, yet I feel more like a jester in a gilded cage.”

As you laughed softly, placing your hands on his shoulders you can’t resist the urge to tease him a bit more.

“You could always start juggling, my Emperor. I’m sure the Romans would appreciate a new form of entertainment.”

His laughter is unexpected, rich and deep, breaking the rigid facade he keeps so carefully.

“Ah, but would it please you? That’s the only opinion I truly value.”

You lean closer, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, the warmth of your touch dissolving the walls he keeps erect.

“It pleases me when you are happy, and when you’re true to yourself.”

"Do I really have to wear this?"

He growls, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder as he glances at the small wooden table arrayed with eye paints made from crushed minerals and oils.

The red and black pigments are striking, akin to his fierce persona.

You smile, your heart fluttering as you sit infront of him.

“It’s part of the ceremony, love. The people wish to see their emperor at his proudest.”

He lets out a huff, rolling his eyes, but you can see the corners of his mouth twitch with amusement.

The Emperor Geta reputedly hates everyone- his brother, all men, women, and even the senators of the empire- all except for you. You’re his hidden sanctuary amidst the chaos of politics and gladiatorial bloodshed, and he knows it just as well as you do.

As you sit before him, you pick up a small brush, its bristles softened from frequent use. Carefully, you dip it into the rich black powder and bring it to his face.

You trace a line along his brow, and he flinches slightly, but then relaxes into the soothing motion of your hands.

With a practiced ease, you paint the colors onto him, transforming the grumpy emperor into a vibrant figure worthy of awe.

“Why must you always make me look like a fool?”

He complains, though the way he leans closer tells you he doesn’t mean it.

“Fools are often the most adored, my love,”

You murmur, your heart swelling with affection.

“And you-” you apply the black beneath his eyes, “-are anything but foolish.”

He watches you, an amused glint in his eye. His gruff demeanor begins to soften under your gentle touch.

You tap a tiny bit of the red under his lower lashes and before he can protest, you lean in closer.

“Just a little more. You’re almost too handsome to behold,”

You whisper with a teasing grin.

“Too handsome?”

He repeats, eyebrows raising dramatically.

“You’re going to have me executed by my own guards with that declaration.”

“Perhaps..”

You giggle softly, your fingers now brushing through his tousled hair, taming the fiery strands that refuse to behave. He slowly gets up, admiring your work in the mirror.

“But only if you let them catch your heart, my sweet emperor.”

With that, you pull out a laurel wreath, its golden leaves shimmering slightly in the dim light. As you place it gently atop his head, he gazes down at you, his heart softening.

The small gesture carries a weight of tradition, but it means something deeper in this private moment- the acknowledgment of your bond.

The corners of his mouth break into a rare smile, and your heart skips a beat.

“You and your ridiculous notions.."

He says, half-grumpy yet completely smitten.

“Well, how else will I regain the admiration of an emperor who frightens off everyone else?”

You tease, slipping your hands across his shoulders. He leans slightly into your touch, resting his forehead against yours.

“And you, my treasured wife, have far too much power over me.”

He admits, his voice turning low and sincere.

“What mortal man could resist the charm of his empress?”

At this closeness, you feel the tension of the outside world fade away. Here, inside these four walls, amidst pigments and laughter, he is not the feared emperor but the man who adores you unwaveringly, the softness of his heart warm and inviting.

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.

“You should know by now that it's only you who can change the hard shell surrounding this heart of mine.”

A breath catches in your throat as warmth blooms across your cheeks.

“Only for you, Geta.”

You reply gently, knowing that for all his grumbling and gruffness, you unearth a sweetness in him that is uniquely precious.

With a swift motion, he closes the distance between you, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. The softness of the moment feels eternal, as the world outside fades, leaving just your laughter and the rich colors of ancient Rome swirling around you.

“Let us show them the emperor with a heart?”

You whisper as he pulls away slightly, a grin spreading across his face once more.

With renewed energy, he stands tall, ready to face the adoring crowd beyond the door. Together, you step into the light, hand in hand- a fierce emperor with the heart of a loyal warrior, and the empress who has tamed his wild spirit.

Here we go!! A well deserved happy end for our ginger model! I actually made this suuuuper long TwT

Don’t forget, requests are always open and I can write for any character you’d like!

I love you guys so much <33

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

[kultklassickiller]

Jealous a short fic

Summary: OC sees a video that has her teeming with jealousy..

Pairing: Roman Reigns x OC (Imagine it’s you)

Warning: This fic contains harsh/foul language, minor asphyxiation

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story. All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

Author’s Note: A short fic I wrote based off the song “Jealous” by Ester Dean. Nothing too serious. Listen to the song for the vibe I was going for. Hope you enjoy ❤

(Jealousy's a motherfucker And I'm a jealous motherfucker..)

That third double shot did it. I didn’t even feel the burn. I needed to relax but I couldn’t. As soon as he came out the bathroom, I was gon’ show my ass.

I probably shouldn’t have been scrolling through Tik Tok, but I needed something to do while I waited for him to finish showering.

And that’s when I saw it.

He holding hands now. Getting personal and up close. Making hoes happy.

I couldn’t have that.

The pitter-patter of flowing water stopped. I poured another shot. He had a routine, so I had time to sip this one slow. He’d dry his hair first with a clean towel. Wrap another around his waist. Exit the bathroom looking for me to greet him so I could finish drying him off, rub the shea butter into his skin, and put his hair into a bun.

But nah, none of that tonight. He can have ole girl do that. She probably already did that.

The door opened just as the empty glass met table. My sable toned legs bounced at an even pace as I prepared to ruin his peace.

“Baby, why you over there?” He questioned with a confused look.

I sucked my teeth.

“Hey, I’m talking to you. You don’t hear me? Agitation clear in his tone as he realized something was amiss.

I folded my arms, not meeting his eyes.

He shifted from his left to right leg. He’d either say something or just come snatch me up. I was prepared to snatch back.

“Oh, I see what this is? What’s wrong with you, huh? Tell Big Daddy.”

Did he tell her that? Does she call him Big Daddy, too?

My fist tightened. The lighter was close to my match. If he said what I thought he was about to say, I was gon’ be on fire.

He sighed, seeing I was choosing to stay mute. He didn’t approach but instead sat on the edge of the bed.

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I need that shea butter on my skin before I completely dry,” he informed.

Boom. There it is.

“Have that bitch do it since y’all holding hands and making eyes with each other,” I lashed out.

He did that face where he scrunched it up like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. I was on my feet now, pacing like a lion in a cage.

“Wha- What are you even talking about? You been drinking, huh?”

He think I'm a joke.

“Leati, don’t play with me. Not right now. You know what I’m talking about. I saw the slick shit okay! How long this shit been going on, huh?” I shouted.

He was up on his feet now. Towel still wrapped dangerously low around his waist. His hair was starting to dry, and he disliked it when that happened as he would have to wet it again.

“Leati? You calling me by my government name now? Is this what we’re doing?” He growled.

I rolled my eyes, “The only Joe I acknowledge right now is Michael Joe Jackson so yes Leati is what you will be called.”

My words provoked something. He approached me faster than I could compute due to the mental lag. The effects of the alcohol were clouding my logic but so was my jealousy.

“I'ma give you one more chance. Tell me what the hell you talking about so I can fix it before I have to fix yo’ ass,” he ordered.

I stumbled out of his reach, grabbing for my phone. The video was still on the screen. I pushed play, shoving the phone in his face.

“That’s what the fuck I’m talking about, Leati. You know her? Y’all got something going on? You holding hands and shit like y’all go together. So, it’s fuck me, huh?”

My phone was thrown across the room, hitting the carpeted floor with a soft thud. He descended on me until my back was up against the wall. I had nowhere to go.

“First off, I’m Big Daddy to you. Remember that! Two, who the fuck do you think you talking to? Three, what you see should never confuse what you know,” he scolded, tapping my temple.

Hmph. I was still feeling defiant. That liquid courage fueled my need to push, push him further.

“Lea-

A large hand was around my throat before I could even utter the rest of that. He shook his head at me in a disapproving manner.

“Try that again,” he dared.

His grip tightened slightly as if he could still see remnants of defiance in my eyes. Something dangerous lurked in his brown orbs but I wasn’t ready to play nice just yet.

I let out a frustrated breath, giving him hope. In turn, he gave me an expected look. One that hoped for or rather anticipated obedience.

“Did you wrap your hand around her throat like this? Is that why you were looking at her like that, touching her like that?” I goaded.

The disappointed “Dad” sigh and look he gave me sealed my faith.

The lean in was slow, methodical almost. His warm breath sent tingles down my spine. And the resonance of his words killed any desire to push or provoke any further.

“Who am I here with right now? Who did I leave that arena with? Who do I work so damn hard for to take care of besides my kids? Who do I come home to and lay under? Who do I go outta my way to communicate with about everything I’m feeling, I’m thinking so we never have an issue? Who? You! I don’t wanna hear shit else about you thinking I’m doing anything with anybody but you. Everything I do is proof that I’m all about you.”

From my ear, he pulled away, looking into my eyes. My knees faltered but his grip on me did not.

“Now I want you to erase all them fallacies you concocted in your pretty little head. And then I need an apology from that pretty little mouth. After that I need you take this pretty little lingerie off and get naked. And then finally I need you to drop to those pretty little knees to do what you do best with that mouth that had so much to say just a minute ago. Is that understood?” he commanded.

I nodded.

“Un uh baby, use your words,” he said, tapping my lips.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Yes, what?” he grinned.

“Yes, I understand, Big Daddy.”

(I swear to god I don't know how I got like this (oh, no) The last nigga that I had, I didn't give a fuck (oh, no) Maybe it's the way you let me ride that...(oh, oh) So I won't let nobody break it up, oh no (oh, no)

[vaperarmand]

one of roman’s penultimate moments as a character being total physical and mental self sabotage. when he fucked it with mencken. when his brother couldn’t help but tell him and rub it in his face. when his public breakdown is going viral. when the only place he was getting the pain he needed in a palatable and productive way was gerri but he fucked that, too. when he was put in the dog cage but he was put in the cage because he liked it. when everybody hit him because he was annoying. like it’s so him. it’s roman all the way. all the pain in excess in every possible way

[f1loverleclerc]

Title: French Whispers

Roman Reigns X Reader

********

It was a quiet Sunday in the Anoa’i household, the kind of day Roman—Joe, to you—treasured more than any spotlight or title belt. Sundays were sacred: no WWE tours, no interviews, no schedules. Just you, him, and the kids basking in the warmth of home.

The smell of breakfast lingered in the air—eggs, bacon, and croissants you’d baked from scratch. The kids were sprawled across the living room floor, their toys creating a colorful battlefield. Joe sat on the couch, watching them with a soft smile, his arm draped lazily over the backrest.

You were in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you tidied up. The sun filtered through the windows, casting golden streaks across the tiled floor. With a mischievous grin, you glanced over your shoulder at Joe.

“Tu es si beau ce matin, mon amour,” you said softly, your voice just loud enough for him to hear. (“You look so handsome this morning, my love.”)

Joe’s head tilted, his brow quirking as a smirk tugged at his lips. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” you replied innocently, turning back to the sink.

Joe didn’t need a translator to know you were up to something. He’d been with you long enough to recognize the playful glint in your eyes when you spoke French. It was one of the many things he loved about you—how effortlessly you switched between languages, your Monaco roots adding an elegant flair to your every word.

But when you spoke French to him? That was his weakness.

A few moments later, as you walked past him to grab a toy from the floor, you leaned down and whispered, “Je t’aime tellement, Joe.” (“I love you so much, Joe.”)

His jaw tightened slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. You suppressed a giggle as you walked back to the kitchen, feeling his eyes follow you.

The game was on.

Throughout the day, you found little ways to sneak in more French. When he helped you fold the laundry, you’d brush against him and murmur, “Tu es irrésistible.” (“You’re irresistible.”)

When he carried your youngest to her nap, you called after him, “Quel homme merveilleux.” (“What a wonderful man.”)

At lunch, as you set his plate in front of him, you let your fingers linger on his shoulder. “Merci, mon roi,” you said with a teasing smile, knowing exactly what calling him “my king” would do. (“Thank you, my king.”)

Joe’s patience was impressive, but even you could see the cracks forming. The way his hand clenched around his fork, the deep breath he took as he rubbed the back of his neck.

By the time the kids were upstairs, busy with their tablets, you knew you had him teetering on the edge. You were in the kitchen again, tidying up the aftermath of lunch when you felt his presence behind you.

“Okay,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

You turned, pretending to be surprised. “What’s wrong, Joe?”

He stepped closer, his towering frame blocking you against the counter. His hands came up, caging you in as they rested on either side of you.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his eyes dark and intense.

“Say what?” you asked innocently, though the smirk tugging at your lips gave you away.

“Anything,” he murmured, leaning down so his nose nearly brushed yours. “Anything in French.”

You let the silence stretch for a moment, watching how his gaze dropped to your lips. Finally, you whispered, “Tu es à moi.”

Joe growled low in his throat, the sound sending shivers down your spine. “And what does that mean?”

“It means,” you said, your voice dropping to a sultry tone, “you’re mine.”

Before you could say another word, his lips crashed onto yours, stealing your breath in a kiss that was equal parts passion and punishment. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t bear even a sliver of space between you.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your fingers clutching the front of his shirt. His forehead rested against yours, and his smirk was pure mischief.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” he murmured, his voice husky.

You grinned, brushing your lips against his. “Je t’attends, mon amour.” (“I’m waiting, my love.”)

Joe shook his head with a soft laugh, his hands sliding to your hips. “I don’t even know what you just said, but it sounded dangerous.”

“It means I’m waiting,” you teased, your voice light and airy.

Joe groaned, resting his head on your shoulder for a moment before pressing a soft kiss to your neck. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Damn right, I do,” he replied, pulling you even closer.

Sundays were sacred, but this one? This one might just be his favorite yet.

[overrboarrd]

roman reigns x black!reader word count: 2.8k warnings: mentions of alcohol and inebriation a/n: decided to go ahead and run this one back. let me know what y'all think!

—————

Acrylic nails mindlessly stirred the deep amber liquid in front of her. She would’ve opted for something lighter, but the aching in her chest begged to be pacified. Shoulders brushed against her in the confined space. The vibrations from the speakers that traveled from the wooden floor throughout her body was her oxygen; the only thing keeping the monstrous cage around her heart from caving in.

She exhaled deeply before closing her eyes. The burning sedated the dull pain, finally giving her what she longed for. Relief. Though the days would pass and her heart would yearn once again. Inebriation soon overwhelmed her, and whilst her mind was almost gone, her body governed her with ease. Legs carried her outside of the bar and around the rust brick building. Fingers fumbled around a purse for a few seconds before pulling out a slim rectangular electronic, the lit screen anticipating the truth that sat on her heart.

“There are countless things that are wrong with me. I’m flawed and-and fragile. Why would you want a glass case as a fiancé? As your wife?”

The impulsive phrase magnified their romance into a blooming estrangement, condemning her to almost two years of seclusion. Her chestnut irises rapidly moved across the device, searching for the one name that could do more than just temporarily pick up the pieces.

Roman.

Her eyes lingered on his contact photo for a few seconds. She kept everything; pictures, voice messages, brief notes that he’d written on random loose sheets of paper succeeding their most intimate moments. When they first met she didn’t take him as romantic. They had not-so-subtly been surprised with a blind double date after Naomi suggested she join her and Jimmy out skating.

————

She walked into the building fully believing that it was another night out with her favorite couple. She’d roll around for a while; then go head to head with Jimmy in air hockey at the small arcade on the side of the rink while Naomi cheered her on. Jimmy would pout and joke that she loved her more than him. The Rink was their old stomping grounds. She and Naomi would go every weekend during their school years. Beating him was second nature. After their 3 round game, she took a seat at one of the benches near the lockers; switching out her sneakers for crisp white skates. Her fingers separated the lace before grabbing the skate and slipping it on. As she got ready to head back on the floor, she overheard a rich, baritone voice engaging with the underpaid worker at the counter, causing her to look up.

“Um, I don’t think we have a size 15, but I can take a look. Give me a second.” The lanky teenage boy disappeared from the counter while the mildly annoyed-looking man rubbed his beard in frustration. She watched his jaw clench, slightly shaking his head. His large hands barely fit in his pocket as he pulled out his phone. Her eyes scanned his side profile. Handsome was an understatement. She didn’t need to see his full face to know that, yet he must have felt her stare. His eyes immediately locked with hers and she got to see the entirety of his herculean features. A small smile replaced the frown that was there seconds before. His once furrowed brows softened, lips parting as if he took in a deep breath. She held her gaze while a smirk graced her face. Eye contact only breaking when she noticed the worker coming back to the front empty handed. Not wanting to be on the other side of his, presumably, growing irritation, she finished tying her skates and stood up. A quick glance was shot over her shoulder, leaving the alluring stranger to his dilemma.

An 808 bass guided resin wheels along maple floors. Strobe lights danced in her eyes and euphoria pulsated through her veins. After a few more songs, she finally decided to join her abandoned party of two. Naomi and Jimmy were sitting on the benches on the opposing side of the rink, his arms wrapped around her while they laughed. She found it adorable, just as much as when the couple first met. They were the perfect match, and they never made her feel like a third-wheel on their outings. So she could only imagine how crazy her face looked as she walked back to their bench, finding the new addition to their party leaning against the wall to the left of Naomi.

‘Who the fuck is h-’ her eyes squinted ever so slightly before widening. Realization and confusion tangoed in her mind while the three finally noticed her heading their way.

“This is my cousin, Roman.” Jimmy interrupted her unfinished thought, standing up and patting his cousin’s back before walking a few steps next to his wife. She was sure her facial expression said enough. Naomi looked at her with raised brows and pursed lips, holding back a laugh. The man outstretched his hand, a playful gleam in his eyes as he watched her. Chills ran down her spine as she hesitantly shook it and introduced herself. He towered over her, the top of her head barely reached the base of his neck. Blackcurrant and ambergris cologne encompassed her. Being so close to him felt magnetic. A hardened glare was thrown Naomi and Jimmy’s way; they met it with two awkward smiles and a thumbs up on Jimmy’s end.

“Sorry for interrupting.” Roman cleared his throat. “I’m visiting for the weekend and my cousin invited me out with him.” A tight lipped smile graced his face, letting her know that he, too, had fallen victim to the couple’s antics.

“Seems like those two have quite the sense of humor, huh? Naomi said the same thing to me.” A sarcastic laugh escaped her lips as she looked up at him, her eyes finally meeting his. “You should’ve known it was a set up.”

He tilted his head slightly to the side. “And why is that?” His brows furrowed in the same way she had seen earlier, slight wrinkles sat above the bridge of his nose.

Her lips formed into another smirk. “How many skating rinks do you know that actually carry a size 15.”

Roman let out a laugh and captured his bottom lip between his pearly whites, a small dimple forming in his cheek. A genuine smile spread across his face as he shook his head, causing her heart to flutter.

“Believe it or not, I’ve never been here before.” He rebutted.

Her brows raised. “Damn, you don’t visit your own cousin?”

“Oh you got jokes, huh.”

“Jimmy really dropped the ball by not telling you that I’m a comedian.” she quipped.

The rest of the night was full of playful banter between the couples. An old school evening of ‘girls versus boys’ transitioned to the Fatu’s home, where the drinks flowed and old college stories left her jumping across the coffee table to cover Naomi’s mouth. Roman and Jimmy reminisced on their youth, from wrestling in the backyard to finally making it to the mainstage together with Jimmy’s twin, Jey.

The liquor’s lethargic aftermath seemed to hit the group simultaneously. Naomi’s legs were stretched across Jimmy’s lap, his hand rested on her thigh as she nestled against him. She caught herself watching them, perhaps a bit too long. It was then she noticed Roman’s arm around her, his thumb tracing small circles on her shoulder. She let her eyes drift close, embracing the newfound comfort of her unanticipated future.

—————

If only she had known the consequences of her insecurities then. He was so good. Not just for her, but overall. Selfless. Understanding. Patient. Though she pushed the latter to exhaustion.

‘Two years couldn’t have been that long.’ She thought, knowing that each month was its own eternity. Her fingers trembled slightly as they hovered over blue digits. Apprehension started to peek through the logical side of her brain, longing fought to steer her in the opposite direction.

Push and pull. Angel and Devil.

Lucifer convinced the cognac to play puppet master, and ringing soon flooded her ears.

Once.

Twice.

A few more times.

Then she hung up. Heart sinking to the pit of her stomach. The line between relief and heartache blurred. She pressed the small button on the side of her phone, locking it before opening her purse again. Her chest tightened and a lump formed in her throat as she fought to hold back her tears. Embarrassed. ‘Pathetic.’ She thought. Of course he didn’t answer. He probably changed his number ages ago. Why would he leave that door open?

Ring.

She froze.

He was calling back.

The screen lit up with Roman’s name, his smiling face staring back at her. Her heart hammered in her chest, her breath catching in her throat. She could almost hear the ticking of a clock, like this moment held the weight of every second they’d been apart.

What if he’s moved on? What if he hates me?

Her chest tightened at the thought. But the weight of the last two years was too heavy, and the aching loneliness was unbearable. The liquor coursing through her veins urged her forward, whispering promises of fleeting courage.

Her finger pressed the button before she could stop herself.

“Hello?” The octave of her voice barely above a whisper. A long pause followed, she braced herself. There was a brief moment of shuffling before Roman decided to speak.

“Why now?” He answered, voice deep and groggy. Nostalgia engulfed her. She missed him. Her phone moved from her ear and she looked at the screen. 2:47 AM.

“I didn’t… realize how late it was...I’m sorry.” Her sentence dragged on longer than she intended. Shit.

“You’re drunk.” His tone was austere.

She hoped it hadn’t been too obvious, but Roman wasn’t fooled. “I might’ve had a drink or two. I just-”Her breath hitched. “I know... I know I fucked up.” Lucifer transformed from puppet master to a full on ventriloquist. A prolonged sigh followed by a slightly muffled ‘Fuck’ came from the opposite end of the phone.

“Where are you?”

“What?”

And for the first time in two years, her name left his lips.

“Where are you.” He demanded this time. Growing impatient with her lack of response.

She could hear him fully up and moving around. Keys jingled in the background, followed by a closed door and heavy footsteps. Those damn size 15’s . The Angel and Devil began waging another internal war. She could apologize for disturbing him so late, hang up the phone and never bother him again. Leave him, again. Or she could get left to her own devices. Allow herself to come face to face with the past that she destroyed. With the man that she never stopped loving.

A cranked engine pulled her out of her thoughts.

“I’m at club LaBelle.”

————

Another double shot of cognac found its way into her tremulous hand as she waited for Roman to arrive. Her body cemented in disbelief. He was on his way there. To her. She tried to prepare herself, playing out multiple scenarios in her head, but she was too far gone. Intoxication hijacked what was left of her partly sober mind. Her legs barely held her up as she sat on the barstool, turning to watch the sea of drunken people congregated together.

Then she saw him.

His jet black hair was tossed carelessly into a ponytail, much longer than when she last saw him. His height gave him an advantage over the crowd as he maneuvered through them, spotting her with ease. A full frown spread across his face, clearly irritated being around loud music and sweaty bodies at this time of night. Dark brows, complimented by wrinkles etched deep on his forehead, contrasted against his skin. She couldn’t read him. His eyes were empty as he looked at her, nodding his head towards the entrance. Wordlessly informing her that it was time to leave.

Not wanting to make the night difficult, she attempted to make her exit. Her head spun and heavy eyelids obstructed her vision. Roman followed not too far behind her. As they made their way outside, she stumbled, catching herself on the door frame. A long tattooed arm peeked into her peripheral vision. She shook the thought of him catching her out of her head. He had yet to say two words to her. She tried to regain her focus, eyes scanning the street for the familiar midnight black sedan.

“This way.” His voice came from behind her.

She turned her head to see him walking towards a black SUV. The headlights flashed as he unlocked the doors from the key fob. He opened the door for her, surprising her more than it should have. Roman was always a gentleman. She struggled to lift herself into the seat, limbs weak. Her legs swung into the vehicle and she let her head rest against the seat.

Roman watched her closely as she got in the car, closing the door behind her before making his way to the driver’s side. He followed suit, shutting his own door before looking over at her. Her eyes were closed, possibly in an attempt to sober up. The small button on the right side of the wheel lit up as he stepped on the brake, pushing it to start the car.

The silence during the car ride was overwhelming. Roman pulled the car in her driveway before shifting the gear to park. No one moved to speak first. Her eyes finally opened, head turning to look at him. He remained stoic. Face completely blank though his side profile was still nothing less than stunning. With liquid courage still lingering in her veins, her mouth opened to speak. “Ro-”

“Why now.” His voice reverberated off the black leather seats.

Her body tensed, finally understanding what he meant. . Emotions hit her simultaneously. Remorse. Love. Regret. Like that pivotal night years ago, it was, once again, all too much.

“I can’t right now Roman.” She slurred.

“Oh now you can’t talk? But your drunk ass can call me at 2:30 in the morning after not saying nothin’ for two years?” The betrayal of his true feelings finally spilled out of him. She watched his grip around the wheel tighten.

“I called you for weeks after you walked out and you never called me back. Hell, Naomi tried to talk to you about it in person and you dismissed her too. You completely erased me out of your life.” He continued, his voice carried as he briefly turned to face her.

A knife pierced through her chest. “I never erased you.” She swallowed back the taste of bile; not knowing if it was from her drunkenness alone or fear of it speaking for her

“You left.” The slight crack in his voice almost went unnoticed.

‘I had to.’ She thought. The words lodged in her throat fought to escape and her insobriety wielded the key.

The silence between them was suffocating, thick with unspoken words. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. Roman’s profile was as rigid as stone, his grip on the steering wheel tightening with every passing second.

“I love you, Roman,” she finally whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

His grip tightened on the wheel, knuckles white, as if her confession had sent another wave of anger crashing over him.

“You don’t get to say that to me, not after all this time. Not after I got down on one knee and told you that you’re the person I wanted to spend forever with.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness of the car. “You don’t just walk out on someone you love. You don’t vanish for two years and expect everything to be okay when you decide to waltz back into their life.”

“I know I hurt you—” she began, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

“Man is this a joke? Hurt me?” Roman laughed bitterly, his eyes flicking towards her for the briefest moment. “You didn’t just hurt me. You left me, and for what, huh?”

The question hung in the air between them, heavy and loaded. Her chest tightened further, guilt mixing with the alcohol in her bloodstream.

“I wasn’t ready,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I was broken, Roman. I still am.”

His gaze softened, but only for a second. “I never needed you to be perfect. I just needed you to stay.”

“Why’d you answer my call?” She challenged. “Why, after all this time, haven’t you moved on with your life?”

“Because when I said those words to you, I meant it. I never stopped caring about your wellbeing. I’ll always make sure you’re good.” He let out a heavy sigh, pulling into her driveway to park.

“I’m just not in love with you anymore.”

There it went; the cage around her heart.

Shattering. Piece by piece.

[justsleepybeans]

The Lion's Chain —★

Marcus Acacius x Reader

18+ NSFW Blood, Death, Gore

Series Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/justsleepybeans/769641339957755904/the-lions-chain-masterlist?source=share

— ☆ —

Chained in the heart of Rome, you are a prison of war, a soldier paraded as a prize for the Emperor’s games. Beneath the gilded restraints burns a singular purpose—vengeance for your father’s death at the hands of Emperor Geta. Among your enemies stands General Marcus Acacius, the man who led the conquest of your people.

Bound by rage and fate, your paths cross in a dangerous dance of blood, power, and defiance. In a city of betrayal and cruelty, will you claim vengeance, or will an unexpected love hold you and shake you to your very core?

— ☆ —

Chapter 1 : Rome

You weren’t an archer. You weren’t a war nurse. You were a soldier—a warrior of your people. Even if their blood did not run in your veins, they were your people nonetheless.

The Roman occupation of your land began today, and with it, your torment. Uncertainty gnawed at your mind. Would they send you to the brothel? Would they sell you? Or worse, would they have you serve the Emperor himself?

Emperor Geta. His name burned in your thoughts. He was responsible for your father’s death—a Roman general with a bloodline tied to Rome’s true heir. Your mother, a Syrian woman you never truly knew, was only a faint memory. Before your father’s execution, he sent you away, demanding you run and never look back. You had resented him for it—until you learned of his death. From that moment, you swore to see Geta’s head on a spike, your father avenged.

The ride to Rome was rough, the cart jostling with each uneven path. The men inside the cage with you cast furtive glances. None were of your land.

“Did they mix you up?” a gruff voice broke the silence. The speaker, a burly man with a scarred face, sat across from you.

You lifted your gaze from your bloodstained palms. “No.”

“Then you’re sure to die,” he said flatly. “They’ll tear you apart.”

— ☆

Lined up before the haughty Macrinus, you kept your chin high. The Roman regarded you with open amusement.

“What is this woman doing here?” he scoffed, laughing. “There’s a separate transport for women. And pardon me, but there’s no mistaking it—you certainly do not look like a man. What is your name?”

“Aura,” you lied without hesitation.

“Aura. A beautiful name for such beauty. Though...” He wrinkled his nose theatrically. “You do need a bath. Blood and dirt are hardly a proper look.”

He gestured to a guard, but you interrupted, your voice steady. “I’m a soldier.”

Macrinus paused, startled, before chuckling. “I must have heard you wrong. A soldier? Surely you’re jesting.”

“I fight.”

“You must be an archer, then,” he said with a smirk.

“Soldier,” you corrected, stepping forward. The guards moved, but Macrinus held up a hand to stop them.

A nearby soldier confirmed your claim. “She’s telling the truth. She fought fiercely in the battle. Took down a handful of our men.”

Macrinus looked intrigued, circling you slowly. “Interesting. And tell me, soldier, why should I let you fight in our arena?”

“If you do, I’ll kill all who stand before me,” you said plainly, meeting his gaze without flinching.

He grinned, stepping closer. “Brave words for a prisoner. Very well. You’ll fight. But not against men—not at first.” His fingers brushed your cheek mockingly. “Be ready, my fierce little soldier.”

— ☆

When Marcus Acacius first heard about a woman among the gladiators, his interest was piqued, though he hid it well.

“She’s fascinating,” Macrinus gushed. “Not an archer, mind you. She knows true combat. Imagine the spectacle! A woman in the arena! History in the making.”

“You’re sending her to her death,” Marcus replied, his voice measured.

Macrinus shrugged. “She’s an enemy of Rome. How she dies is irrelevant. What matters is the entertainment.”

Marcus said nothing more. His stoic gaze betrayed none of his thoughts, though unease settled in his chest.

— ☆

The arena wasn’t grand, not like the coliseum, but the crowd still roared with excitement. You stepped into the sand, sword in hand, alongside seven other prisoners. From his gilded section, Macrinus watched with delight. Beside him stood the general—Acacius.

Your eyes locked on him, and hatred surged. Pointing your sword at him, you held his gaze for a moment before lowering it.

“Seems she remembers you,” Macrinus teased.

Marcus’s expression didn’t waver. “It seems so.”

A gate groaned open, and monstrous shrieks filled the air. The crowd’s cheers reached a fever pitch as massive, savage monkeys poured into the arena.

One charged you immediately. You reacted fast, flinging sand into its eyes and narrowly dodging its claws. It shrieked in fury, blinded but relentless, and lunged again. This time, you sidestepped, driving your sword into the back of its neck. Blood spurted as it collapsed, twitching.

Another beast tackled you before you could recover, its weight pinning you to the ground. Its teeth snapped inches from your face as you held your sword against its jaws. Your muscles burned from the strain.

Desperation fueled you. Snarling, you twisted your head and sank your teeth into the creature’s arm. Hot, metallic blood filled your mouth as you tore flesh away. The monkey screeched in pain, recoiling. You seized the opening, shoving it off and plunging your sword deep into its chest.

The crowd gasped, then erupted in cheers.

From his vantage, Marcus’s lips pressed into a thin line. “She fights to survive,” he murmured.

“And the people love it,” Macrinus declared.

— ☆

The evening was alive with the murmurs of Rome’s elite. The grand hall of the royal palace glowed under the flickering light of torches and chandeliers, their flames reflecting off golden goblets and polished marble. Musicians played soft notes in the background, but their melodies were nearly drowned by the chatter of senators, generals, and the occasional uproarious laugh from Emperor Caracalla.

Seated at the head of the long table, Emperor Geta lounged with a languid smile, his gold-embroidered robes shimmering under the firelight. Beside him sat his brother, Caracalla. Senators leaned close to the brothers, whispering honeyed words, vying for favor.

General Marcus Acacius stood near the edge of the gathering, his imposing figure unmistakable even in the crowd. He sipped wine from a goblet, though his attention lingered on the swirling mass of people, his face unreadable as usual.

It was then that the doors to the hall swung open with a theatrical creak. Macrinus entered, a grin plastered on his face. Behind him, followed by two guards, was you—the Aura.

The room fell silent, curiosity replacing conversation. The fine tunic they’d forced you into—a deep crimson trimmed with gold—felt foreign and constricting. Your hair was clean and neatly braided back, though the marks of your battles remained visible on your skin.

“And here I bring her!!” Macrinus declared, spreading his arms like a showman unveiling his masterpiece. “The woman warrior of the arena. A prize of Rome!”

The silence broke with murmurs rippling through the room. Some voices carried admiration, others disdain, but all were captivated.

Emperor Geta leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he examined you. “This is her?” he asked, his voice dripping with skepticism. “The gladiatrix causing such a stir?”

Macrinus nodded, his grin unwavering. “Indeed, my Emperor. She fought today in the arena and lived. Not only that, she triumphed. Two beasts slain by her hand! One even by her teeth.”

Geta chuckled, the sound more amused than impressed. “A novelty, nothing more.” He waved a hand dismissively. “What value does she bring beyond entertaining the masses for a fleeting moment?”

“She is a warrior,” Macrinus pressed, stepping closer. “Skilled, resourceful, and unyielding. Imagine her in the grand arena, my Emperor. In the final game! The people will love her. She will be a symbol of Rome’s strength.”

Caracalla’s cold gaze settled on you, his expression unreadable. “A symbol,” he repeated, his tone mocking. “Of a conquered people? How poetic.”

You clenched your fists at your sides, biting back the retort burning on your tongue. 

Geta’s lips curled into a smirk as he turned his attention to you. “Tell me, girl, do you know who I am?”

Your pulse quickened, but you forced your voice steady. “You are Emperor Geta. Ruler of Rome.”

“And your master now,” he added, leaning back in his chair. “Do you understand that?”

The room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting your response. Your jaw tightened, and you dipped your head ever so slightly. “Yes.”

A murmur of approval swept through the hall, though a few smirked, clearly amused by the sight of a defiant warrior forced into submission.

Geta laughed, raising his goblet. “Good. Perhaps you’ll prove useful after all. But tread carefully, girl. Rome’s mercy is as fleeting as its favors.”

Beside him, Caracalla’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned away, dismissing you as one might a slave.

Macrinus bowed deeply. “She will not disappoint, my Emperor.”

As the attention shifted back to feasting and idle chatter, Macrinus leaned closer to you, his voice low. “That could have gone worse. Keep your composure, little soldier. You are playing a dangerous game, but one worth the reward.”

From across the room, Marcus Acacius watched the exchange, his sharp eyes catching every detail. Though he said nothing, a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps—passed across his otherwise stoic face.

— ☆

The heavy chains around your wrists clinked softly as you walked through the cobblestone streets, golden links that mocked your strength with their delicate, gleaming appearance. Macrinus strolled beside you, his gait jaunty and self-assured, as though parading a prized possession through the heart of Rome.

“See, Aura?” Macrinus said, gesturing toward the bustling city around you. “This is a far cry from the filth of the gladiator quarters. Consider it a kindness that I’ve convinced the Emperor to allow such luxury.”

Your eyes remained forward, the vibrant cityscape only deepening the bitterness in your chest. Roman citizens stopped to stare, their gazes filled with curiosity or disdain. You were no more than an exotic curiosity, paraded for their amusement.

Macrinus continued, undeterred by your silence. “A servant’s room, yes, but within the city walls. A privilege, really. And who knows? With your performance in the arena, you might earn even greater rewards.”

You clenched your fists, the gold of the chains biting into your skin. “I am no pet to be rewarded, Macrinus.”

He chuckled, unfazed. “No, but you are smart enough to survive, which makes you useful. And that makes you mine—for now.”

The words barely registered as your focus sharpened ahead. In the crowd, a figure emerged, his broad shoulders and commanding presence parting the throng like a wave.

General Marcus Acacius.

His dark eyes locked onto yours as if the gods themselves had orchestrated this meeting. The noise of the streets faded to a dull hum, the air between you heavy with unspoken tension.

He was dressed simply compared to the extravagance of the feast, but his presence was no less imposing. The sunlight glinted off the leather and steel of his armor, a stark reminder of the destruction he had led upon your land.

You stopped in your tracks, the golden chains around your wrists taut as your whole body stiffened. Every instinct screamed at you to act, but Macrinus’s hand on your arm brought you back to the present.

“Ah, General Acacius,” Macrinus said, his tone slick with charm. ��What an unforeseen meeting. Our Emperor’s newest warrior and Rome’s finest general, face to face.”

Marcus’s gaze flicked to Macrinus briefly before returning to you. His expression remained unreadable, though his brow twitched in something that could have been curiosity—or recognition.

“This is the woman from the arena,” Marcus said, his voice low and steady, more an observation than a question.

Macrinus beamed. “Indeed, General. Aura here has made quite the impression on our Emperor. I’m merely escorting her to more... fitting accommodations. A soldier of her caliber deserves some comfort, don’t you think?”

Marcus’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he stepped closer. “Comfort for a prisoner of war is an interesting concept.”

The sarcasm in his tone wasn’t lost on you, and for a moment, a flicker of respect stirred in your chest. But it was quickly drowned by the simmering rage that had festered since the day your people fell.

You straightened, meeting his gaze with the same defiance you’d shown Geta earlier. “A prisoner earns their place, General. Even in Rome.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, his gaze softened—but only slightly. “Earn it, then,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, a challenge laced in his words.

Macrinus laughed lightly, oblivious to the tension between you. “Oh, she will, Acacius. She will.” He tugged gently on the chains to urge you forward. “Come now, Aura. The General has other matters to attend to.”

As you passed Marcus, your shoulder brushed his, and you felt the faintest shift in his stance, as though he had momentarily faltered. But when you glanced back, his face was impassive once more, watching you disappear into the crowd.

It wasn’t fear in his eyes, nor arrogance. It was something far more dangerous—curiosity.

[i80010]

Talking’s Overrated

featuring : Eren Yeager x fem!reader

content : MDNI, smut, Eren is whipped, he’s also a little shit, mean dom!eren if you squint, car sex, fingering, mutual masturbation, squirting, multiple orgasms, anal play, creampie, hair pulling, full nelson, friends with benefits to lovers sorta, reader is sort of a brat idk, Eren loves hair pulling, ddlg vibes if you use a magnifying glass, a little dumbification, reader has her ears pierced, Eren spits in reader’s mouth, slight degradation, DEFTONES MENTION!!!

word count : 5.7k

synopsis : After Eren ends your little fling, he asks to talk it out with you one late night. You find out he believes talking is overrated.

notes : hi guys!!! i’m angel, and this is my first ever fic and it took me weeks to work on, so notes, reblogs and constructive criticism are all welcomed! hope you enjoy my loves<3

- Come outside

Your stomach flips as you read the notification on your screen, hesitantly swiping it away. It’s late on a Thursday night, it’s quiet. Your room is shrouded in darkness, only illuminated by the blaring brightness of your phone screen. You continue to scroll through Instagram, giggling at Hitch’s close friends, when another message comes through.

- Let’s talk

Talking. You chew your cheek. When was the last time you two had spoken?

“Friend, huh? Is that what I am to you?” His hands caged your head against the bathroom wall. He leaned closer, dropping his head to meet your gaze, his breath minty and warm. “Is fucking each other what friends do?”

“It was a-“

“A mistake? Is that what you think of us?” Eren was dangerously close to you now, his lips ghosting across yours.

“I never said it was a mistake,” You chewed your lip nervously as you drew in a shaky breath, “Just a one time thing.”

“There’s no fucking difference, you either want this or you don’t. You know how I feel about this,” his breath fanned over your face, your eyes flutter closed, “About you,” he pauses.

“Don’t deny me, please, let me know I’m not alone in this,” he was almost pleading now, his voice soft and strangled.

You let your head fall back, gently knocking against the wall. “Eren, I-“, you looked at him, how the sharp contours of his jaw had been softened into slopes by the low, luminescent lighting. Your eyes trailed over him slowly, like he was a wonder of the world.

Striking, green eyes, framed by long, dark lashes. A pointed Roman nose, above his plump, rosy lips and the set of shiny white teeth behind them. His smooth, olive skin, akin to sculpted sandstone. He was everything you could have asked for, everything you needed, and that was entirely too much to ask of him.

You shook your head at him, dropping his gaze ashamedly. The air in the room staled.

Eren scoffed, and his hands fell from their place on the wall. “Fine, you want to fuck Jean, go for it,” he runs a hand down his face frustratedly, “thanks for letting me know where I stand, and that this meant absolutely nothing to you.”

“Eren, that’s not-“

“Shut the fuck up, okay? You don’t get to have a say in this, you don’t get to fuck with my feelings and then tell me it’s fine. You don’t get to-“, he blows out a short breath, recollecting his thoughts. He starts again, slower, calmer, quieter, “You don’t get to break my heart and tell me that’s not what you meant, okay?”

He waits for a response, and you wait for him to shout again. You have a moment of silence, despite the muffled Deftones bleeding through the walls. Eren turns to leave, but his hand hesitates over the doorknob. Opening his mouth to speak, he casts you one more angry - no, pained - glance, and swallows.

“Do you regret this?”

You don’t respond.

The door slams behind Eren. You don’t follow him.

The door slams behind you as you step into the midnight chill, dressed in only a hoodie and shorts. The night air bites at your legs and you flex your hands at your sides routinely. The world outside is serene - illuminated only by the spindly street lamps stationed on the sidewalk. Your heart sputters at the sight of Eren’s car, parked crookedly in your driveway - you can’t even see through his tinted windows. The low hum of his engine rattles his car gently, like a small, mobile refrigerator.

When you get to the passenger side, you swing the door open, slide into the plush leather seat, and close the door, all without sparing Eren a second glance. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, legs spread wide apart, in a black hoodie and grey sweats. He shifts his hips upwards as he readjusts his sitting position, his eyes never leaving your shivering figure.

He rakes over your oversized hoodie, your bare legs, your pretty, pretty face. He lingers on your face for a second too long, then he grins when he sees you press your thighs together.

“You cold?”

“Yeah, a little,” Eren hums in response as he drums his fingers against the steering wheel. His rings glint in the muted glare of the moonlight.

“Want me to turn on the heating?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” You watch as he cranks the dial up to max, and the warm air almost instantaneously rushes out of the AC vents. You slump back into your seat, revelling in the warmth. A thin film of condensation falls onto the windows, mottling the midnight scenery outside.

“So,” Eren begins cooly, “how have you been?”

His voice was oddly impartial, and you knew better than to trust Eren’s nonchalance. You look at him side-long, attempting to uncover any unkind inflections. You’re met with a lazy smile and a glint in his eyes that stokes the warmth between your legs, warmer than any heater can make you.

“I’ve been good.” A small, charged beat passes. “You?”

“I’ve been good too,” he hums. He licks his lips cockily when he asks, “Have you missed me?”

You’re a delicate instrument, and Eren wants to know if he can still remember how to play you, how to tune you to his liking.

You surrender to his disarming smile.

You breathe in. “Yeah, I did.”

Eren huffs out a quiet laugh and lets his head fall against the window. “I’ve missed you too.”

You breathe out. “Really?”

He grins. “Of course, I have.”

He slowly leans across the console, “What,” he murmurs softly, “You don’t believe me?”

You squirm in your seat, flustered by his unwavering gaze. His eyes are low, and swimming with mirth. He cradles your face in his hand and your eyes flutter shut when he drags his nose along your jaw.

Your breaths are shallower now. You’re supposed to be talking, talking about you, talking about your relationship, talking about anything but how much you yearned for each other the past weeks.

You tilt your head sideways, facing him, and tentatively press your forehead to his. He’s rendered you breathless within minutes. You are drowning in him - his sight, his scent, his touch - you can’t talk, let alone breathe, not when he’s taking up all the space in the car.

All notions of reconciliation are abandoned when he presses a fleeting kiss to the shell of your ear, and then whispers, “Do I have to prove it?”

You draw in a shuddering breath.

“Please.”

His lips press into yours, hot and wet, as you lace your hands into his hair. He tastes of peppermint and marijuana. His hand trails from your cheek to your throat, squeezing gently, coaxing a small moan from you. Skimming his thumb over your pulse, his tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it gently. Your hands tug at the hair interlocked between your fingers, and Eren releases a loud groan into your mouth.

“C’mere,” he mumbles against you. His hands slip under your thighs, and he gently manoeuvres you over the center console and into his lap. You shudder when you feel him beneath you, large and thick and impossibly hard. You roll your hips against the tent in his pants experimentally, and it pulls a moan from both of you.

He pulls away - his lips slick and swollen, still connected to yours by limp strings of saliva - to rasp, “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, you know that?”

There is nothing other than reverence in his eyes as he surveys you. Your chest is already heaving, you’re flushed from your neck to your ears, and your lips are a dark, kiss-bitten red. An angel.

My angel, Eren thinks.

You hum in response and dip your head to capture his lips again. His cock is already dribbling precum, staining his sweats a dark grey. You run your tongue along his bottom lip, before sinking your teeth into it. His dick twitches.

Eren pulls away, again, to mutter huskily, “You’re so mean, baby, what am I gonna do with you?” before sliding his lips along your jaw. His lips leave a blazing trail behind them, and his hands are just as hot.

His fingers slip under the hem of your hoodie, pressing small circles into your skin that make you writhe in his lap. His lips stretch into a smirk as he descends down the column of your throat, pausing every now and again to suck bruises into your skin. His hands tug at your hoodie, with a muttered, “Off.”

You scramble to take off your oversized sweater in the confines of Eren’s car, and in your flurry of movements, you elbow the horn behind you. You jolt at the sudden squawk, but Eren’s grip on your waist keeps you grounded. He chuckles lightheartedly.

“Easy, we don’t want your neighbours knowing we’re out here, right?” he teases you. Pouting, you discard your hoodie into the passenger seat and watch Eren’s jaw go slack at the sight of your bare chest.

“No bra?” Eren immediately takes your left nipple into his hot, wet mouth and your back arches, “You’re so good to me, baby.”

You keen as he rolls the other nipple in his fingers, content with how they pebbled due to the chill of the night. He releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop and places sloppy, open-mouthed kisses in the valley between your breasts. His large, calloused hands fondle your breasts languidly, his cock twitching in his briefs. Moaning softly, you roll your hips against him, desperate for friction, and whimper out a needy, “Eren, please.”

He lazily grins up at you. He is so insufferable - “What do you need, baby?”

You attempt to roll your hips again, but Eren’s hands keep you stationary, “I need you.”

“Yeah? You want me to take these off for you?” He tugs at your skimpy shorts, and he chuckles when you nod enthusiastically, “Hips up, baby.” He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your thong, and he sweeps off your underwear and shorts, so you’re sitting bare in his lap. He wolf-whistles at the sight of you, pressing a few kisses to your collarbone.

Your tits, full, warm and round, your waist, melded to Eren’s touch, your thighs, plush and soft, either side of Eren’s lap, your pussy, glistening in the light, dripping onto his sweats - you’re so undeniably sexy, even more so in the moonlight painting you silver.

He runs his hands up and down your waist, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch. His lips are still swollen from your kisses, and his eyes are glazed with adoration. If you squint, you can see the hearts dancing in his eyes. Your heart flutters.

You’re Eren’s, his to hold, his to fuck, his to love. He doesn’t deserve you - he knows that much - but he is willing to ruin your friendship if it meant being able to see you like this again.

His eyes widen when he sees you palm your breasts, spilling out of the gaps between your fingers. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and warmth courses between your legs.

“Stop it.”

Eren is snapped out of his reverie by your voice. He clears his throat briefly. “Stop what?”

You wiggle on his lap, juggling your tits, smiling coyly, “Staring.”

He grins at you, brazen, “Never.”

His breath fans against your chest, hot, and his tongue slides across your sternum, hotter. He pulls you in for another kiss, a slower, softer one this time, and lets his hands roam around you freely. One hand rests on the small of your back, the other sliding down the plane of your stomach to where you need him most.

Your hips buck to meet him halfway. “Please, Eren-“

His fingers finally come into contact with your core, and you let out a strained whimper at his fleeting touch. He ghosts over your clit, chuckling at your displeasure. Just as you are about to whine again, he starts applying pressure to your swollen nub - just enough to make your head spin - as he clicks his tongue.

“Patience, baby. No more whining, you know I’ll give it to you good.“ He dips a finger between your folds, running it along your slit, before plunging it into you.

You gasp quietly as he begins thrusting it in and out of you. His fingers are long and thick, adorned with thick silver rings, nestled against that gummy spot that makes your knees weak. The stretch is delicious, something your fingers could never achieve. You can hear the squelch squelch squelch echo around the car before he even adds another finger. You’re mildly aware that you’re dripping down his wrist, but your mind is too foggy with pleasure to feel an inkling of shame. You’ve never been this wet for anyone before, and your heart hammers wildly in your chest.

“You hear that baby?” Eren teases you, “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” You whimper and bury your head into the crook of his neck. He slides in another finger, stretching you open, open, open. His rings graze your clit and you hum eagerly. You resort to bouncing on his hand, your gut beginning to tighten. Eren’s fingers still as he watches you. His voice is lowered to a husky drawl - “Go on, I want to see your cum on my fingers. Use me, baby.”

You begin to rock your hips faster, encouraged by his coos, the flames in your gut beginning to spread. Your gyrations become erratic and uneven. You pant into his ear wantonly, your breasts bouncing with your every move.

Gritting his teeth, Eren throws his head back. Moan by moan, you’re sending him closer to the edge. The hold you have on him is debilitating, and he’ll finish soon - untouched - if you don’t stop whining into his ear like a bitch in heat.

“Look at me,” Eren commands suddenly, tugging your hair. “I want to see you cum for me.”

Placing your hands on his shoulders, holding his gaze, you grind your clit against the heel of his palm. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your legs lock around his waist at this newfound degree of pleasure. Moans are tumbling out of you unrestrained now, your voice high, whiny and loud. You are on the brink of orgasm, painstakingly close, and as Eren tugs your hair again, you lose it.

Your vision blurs and your legs shake as the world stutters on its axis. You spasm and clench around Eren’s hand, dripping onto the seat below you. Pleasure washes over you in waves, each one less intense than the last. You fall into Eren’s chest, breathing heavily as you come down from your high.

Eren looks at the mess you’ve made, chews his lip - letting out a low fuuuuck - before asking if, “You’re okay?”

You hum in response, barely registering Eren’s question. He flips you swiftly, and your back is now flush with his chest. His hoodie is warm and scratchy against your skin. Eren tugs your hair again, lighter this time, and you look at up him, eyes wide and glazed over.

Eren sucks in a breath as he stares at you, basking in your post-orgasm glow. Your skin shimmers in the dim light filtered through his windscreen, casting your face half in shadow. Your eyes are low and your chest heaves with your sharp and fast inhales. He brings his hand up to your cheek, swiping his thumb under your eye, the other cupping your sex.

“I could cum just looking at you,” he murmurs.

You lean into his embrace, whispering, “I can cum just thinking about you.”

A hoarse groan spills from his throat, and a hard slap is landed to your clit. Your whole body lurches as you mewl loudly.

“Is that right?” he chuckled breathlessly, “Do you think about me when you touch this dirty little pussy of yours at night?” You nod avidly, and he rewards you with a few harsh circles to your clit.

“Show me,” he said, leaning forward to watch his fingers play with your pussy, “Show me how hard you cum when you think about me.” He hoists you up so he can shove his sweats halfway down his thighs - no underwear? God, he’s such a slut - and your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, bobbing between your legs.

It was long, and girthy, the head flushed to an angry red. Precum dribbled steadily from the tip, trickling down his shaft in translucent streams. A bulging vein runs down the underside of his cock, straight to where his balls sit, heavy and warm. Gripping his cock at the base, he smacks the bulbous head again your clit twice. Your legs spasm either side of him and he smirks before spitting, a fat glob of saliva landing onto your puffy clit.

He taps your clit again, gentler, encouraging, as he urges you, “Touch yourself, baby. I won’t ask again.” The shift in his tone is evident as his eyes darken, forest green now a deep viridian. You bite your bottoms lip as you slide a hand down your body, the other idly kneading your left breast.

Your fingers draw lazy circles around your entrance before dipping a finger between your folds. You sigh breathily, allowing your head to fall against his shoulder, and Eren begins pumping himself slowly. You slip a finger into yourself, before bringing it back up to your lips. Eren watches keenly as you suck your essence off your fingers, then dip them back between your legs. You purr as you thrust two fingers into yourself, massaging that gummy spot that makes you dizzy. You begin to go faster, synchronous to the pumps of Eren’s hands.

His grunts are low and heavy in your ears, goading you to, “Go faster, I want to see you cum all over your fingers like the slut you are.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy, your fingers now hammering into your little hole, coaxing little spurts of arousal out of you with every pump. Eren uses your cum as a lubricant, slicking his shaft as he fists his cock aggressively. His dick nearly glitters in the moonlight, lathered in a milky sheen of your arousal. He snakes his vacant hand up your body, briefly squeezing your throat, your pulse hammering beneath his fingertips.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, and he takes the opportunity to shove his fingers into your mouth. He watches saliva pool in your mouth, before spitting in it. You hum delightedly, your face so vacant with pleasure it makes Eren curse. As Eren pulls his fingers out of your mouth, spit dribbles down your chin and into the concaves of your collarbone.

“Such a messy girl, aren’t you?” he coos. You blink slowly, and then nod blankly. “Bet you don’t even know what I said, huh? So cockdrunk already,” he tuts at you lovingly as he brings his free hand to your second entrance.

When he circles your puckered hole, you gasp quietly. He shushes you tenderly, and he feels you give way beneath his finger tips.

“Good girl, gonna let me have all of you, right?” you agree mindlessly, dazed in the pursuit of your orgasm. He chuckles at you, how dumb you are for him, before slipping a finger into you, knuckle deep. Your body contorts and you let out a sharp cry. Eren grips the base of his cock to prevent the orgasm threatening to crest at the sound of your cries.

Even with one finger down there, you feel so full, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You slam your free hand on the steamy window, plastering a hand-shaped spyhole onto it. Your fingers speed up and you begin to pant when you sense your core begin to twist.

“Eren- I’m so close, fuck,” Eren slides a second finger into your ass and you let out a loud, debauched, filthy moan. You lick your lips longingly, watching beads of precum drip over Eren’s hands as he smears it over his shaft.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Eren grunts against your neck, “Gonna make me cum.”

Knowing Eren was here, with you, being driven to the edge by your wanton cries and unabashed pleasure, sends you toppling headfirst into your second orgasm of the night.

Your back arches wildly and you wail out Eren’s name as you shake and convulse. You twitch violently around Eren’s fingers, simultaneously gushing onto yours. Your wrist is dripping with your arousal, as is Eren’s entire cock. As you thrash on his lap, he slowly retracts his fingers from your ass.

He slides his lips along your jaw, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat beaded along your face, before tilting your head with a large hand and kissing you. You suck on his bottom lip before sinking your teeth into it softly, just how he likes it.

With a throaty moan, Eren follows you and hot, thick ropes of cum shoot out from his cock. They drape over your thighs, the steering wheel and your stomach like silvery garlands of pearls. He lets out a small grunt as the last spurts fall limply onto his hand.

You whine breathily as he rubs his cock through your folds. He gently rolls his hips upwards, and his balls hit your round ass with a small plap. He pulls away from your heated kiss, and you chase his lips desperately - you’re pathetic.

The head of his massive cock aligns with your belly button and Eren, gripping his shaft by the base, taps his tip against your navel, admiring the thin strings of precum that linger.

His voice drips with sadistic enthusiasm when he drawls, “I’m gonna be in your stomach, baby. Can you take it?”

“Eren, please, I need you.” You roll your hips against the hard length of his member.

He chuckles at your wanton desperation. “You want it, baby?” You nod fervently. “How bad?”

“So, so, so bad, please fuck me, Eren.” Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and your eyes lock onto his with blind adoration. He presses a quick kiss to your hairline, and then your forehead.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He presses his cock against your entrance, slowly, slowly, slowly pushing past that tight ring of muscle. You sigh dreamily as Eren nibbles on your earlobe, occasionally tugging at your piercings.

He pauses briefly when he bottoms out. You squirm in his arms before he scolds you, slapping your inner thigh harshly. The eerie silence of the world around you fades into your ears ringing when he slowly - agonisingly - begins thrusting. His cock drags along your walls perfectly with every precise roll of his hips. His groans echo around the car. The joint sounds of your ecstasy nearly drown out the lewd squelches between your legs.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when Eren hammers your g-spot. You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel your release begin to crest. Eren’s breath is hot against your neck and his muttered praises cloud your brain.

One of your hands travels up to entangle itself in Eren’s hair. He turns and plants a wet kiss on your palm. His thrusts become more rapid and shallow as you clench around him. You feel the car rock in time with his thrusts and you sigh happily.

You want your neighbours to know you’re getting fucked senseless. You want the world to know how good you’re getting it right now. Though now, your world has you spread on his lap like a fuckdoll and is pounding you like an animal.

You hiccup as Eren sinks his teeth into your palm. “You okay, pretty girl? Been quiet for a while.” When you nod, he presses his wet lips to your cheek, plastering his smile on you. He slides a hand down to your clit and begins rubbing it in small, quick circles. “No worries, I’ll have you screamin’ my name in no time. Gonna turn you into my little rag-doll.”

Your back arches as his thrusts also pick up speed. Every thrust has your legs trembling and voice cracking.

“Eren- fuck, it’s so good,” you babble in your gut-wrenching pleasure.

“Yeah?” His smirk is hot against your neck. He whispers, “How good?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrusts impossibly faster. Your hands dig into his biceps and when you feel blood bead at the skin, he hisses in pleasure.

“So good, no one does it like you, Eren.”

He throws his head back with a hearty groan. God, you don’t know what you do to him. Every time he thinks you’ve lured him in deep enough, he finds himself diving into you again, until he’s drowning in your wet, warm depths.

Your eyes meet his again. Your lashes flutter and Eren presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead after brushing away the hair plastered to it.

“Oh, yeah? It’s that good?” You nod lazily, your body jolting with the force of his thrusts. He takes one of your tits in his palm and squeezes hard. He lowers his mouth to yours, and you wet your lips in anticipation. “You gotta cum all over me then.”

You do. Ecstasy dances down your spine as you cry out his name. You squeeze your eyes shut as your clamp down on Eren’s cock. White flashes behind your eyelids like fireworks. You moan his name again and again and again and he tells you he knows, he knows, he knows. Your arousal drips down his shaft, leaving a glistening trail past his balls and onto the padded leather beneath you both.

“Good girl,” he coos. He brings the fingers circling your clit up to your lips, and you dart your tongue out to taste yourself.

His pace never relents, not even when you’re sobbing wildly. The aftershocks of your previous orgasm fade, and you’re already teetering on the edge of another. You wring your hands in the sweat-sodden material of his hoodie. You sob, “I’m gonna cum again.”

“Already?” he tuts and laughs, his voice husky and low. He hums in approval before pinching your nipple tightly. The pain elicits a sweet, little cry from you. His voice is strangled when he asks, “Tell me what you need.”

“More, I need more, I need it harder,” you whine into his neck. You nuzzle into his collarbone, deeply inhaling his warm, vanilla cologne.

“You want harder? I’ll give you harder, you little slut,” he grunts as he hooks his arms under your knees, pinning them to your chest. The change in position angles his cock so deep into you, you can feel him in your throat. When you feel the head of his cock ram into your cervix, you shriek - half pain, half pleasure - and Eren swallows your cries with a wet and sloppy kiss, much like the mess between your legs.

Incoherent moans tumble from your mouth, your eyes find sanctuary in the back of your head and your wetness floods the seat below you. The sharp pain makes you gasp, makes your toes curl. The pads of Eren’s fingers are warm against your knees and his breath is searing against your neck. He continues to split you open on his cock, intent on ruining you on his lap.

He lifts his head to observe you, to admire your undoing. Your skin is sweaty and flushed, your lashes beaded with tears, your lips swollen and bitten. You’re a sight for sore eyes, a glimpse of heaven in his arms. Your eyes snap to his and you whimper in shame, mustering up the scraps of dignity you had remaining, shying away from the ferocity in his eyes.

Eren chuckles dryly at you. He calls your name. Once. Twice. You shake your head and bury it into your chest.

“Oh, no, no, no.” His hands come to rest on the back of your head, arms still hooked under your knees, and he roughly yanks your head back to look at him.

You gasp, “Eren-“

“Look at me.” Your eyes lock onto his. “Look at this.” He tilts your head down, maintaining his ruthless pace, “Look at you, baby, getting so wet for me.”

You laugh and sob, surveying the mess you’ve created. Your arousal is spread between your lap - thick, slimy strings connecting your thighs to Eren’s. Your lips are stretched around his width, suctioning him into you with lewd squelches. It’s so wet and sloppy and messy and it’s so, so perfect.

“Feels so- so, so good, baby, fuck,” you babble this out to Eren and he belts out his handsome, disarming laugh.

“Yeah? Bet it does.” You melt even further into his touch when he places a kiss to the crown of your head.

Watching yourself get split open by Eren sends you hurtling towards your release, so you breathe out a quiet, “Cumming.”

Eren chuckles, drops his lips to your ear, and murmurs, “Are you asking or telling me?”

You shake your head weakly. “Don’t make me beg.”

He chuckles quietly, deciding to take mercy on you. Eren sinks his teeth into your earlobe before he gives you a deep, hard thrust, and then commands you to, “Cum.”

Your legs go limp as the world stutters on its axis. The pleasure is mind-numbingly intense and white-hot bursts of relief wrack your body rhythmically. Your mouth gapes in a silent scream as Eren slams himself into your cervix again and again. Hot tears roll down your cheeks, and your head kills back onto his shoulder, too weak to watch yourself cum around him.

Your arousal, clear and copious, sprays everywhere in his car : his seat, the steering wheel, the windscreen, even your body. Eren moans at the sight of you squirting all over his car, you marking your territory. You shudder helplessly in his grasp, succumbing to the heat dousing your limbs. If not for Eren’s tight grip on you, you would have collapsed.

He keeps going, keeps thrusting, desperate to join you in the pleasure of orgasm. His thrusts become sloppier, but no less deep. You mewl with every pump of his hips against yours, overly sensitive and stimulated.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he pants, strained and shaky, in your ear.

You moan at the thought of his hot, thick cum filling you up. “Inside, Eren, please, please, please-“

He cuts you off with a pained groan, “Fuck, you know I can’t do that.”

“Please, Eren, please,” you plead with him, your eyes wide and glassy, “Don’t I deserve it?”

His eyes snap shut and he lets out a shaky, ragged breath. “Shit, you’re making this really hard for me.” His hips pummel you faster, shallower, irregular, as if he’s losing his restraint.

Fuck it, he’s come this far, and he can’t say no to you. “You want it, baby? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I need it Eren, please give it to me,” you whimper desperately.

“Fuck,” he whines as he thrusts into you a final time, unloading himself into you. Sighing happily, you press a kiss to his cheek as you feel the warm spurts of cum paint your insides. He only pulls out when he stops pulsing inside you, wincing slightly.

Eren slumps against your shoulder, his chest rattling with every breath. Your hands tangle into his thick, chestnut hair. He grunts in approval. Quick, fleeting kisses are pressed to your shoulders and you shudder. Your movement reminds you of the mess between your legs, and you suddenly feel filthy.

“Eren,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper.

Eren’s response is muffled by your neck. “Yes, baby?”

You sniffle. “I’m messy,” Eren jerks up, seemingly rejuvenated after remembering the importance of aftercare.

“Shit, sorry, I’ll clean you up now,” he reaches for your hoodie and starts wiping at your inner thighs. He grins up at you over your shoulder - “You really made a mess huh?”

You shuffle awkwardly in his lap. You had squirted on his sunroof, a mess was an understatement.

The corners of his lips pull upwards into a smirk, “Don’t worry about it, ‘m getting my car detailed anyway.” Humming when he’s deemed you clean, he rotates you so you’re eye to eye. His eyes twinkle with undulating lust as he wipes away your tears. “You good?”

You nod meekly, nuzzling his calloused palm.

He pinches your thigh. “Don’t get all shy on me now, you were being real loud earlier.” He tosses the hoodie into the backseat before placing kisses to both of your breasts. His brows pinch at the slightly pensive expression plastered on your face.

He tugs your hair lightly. “Do you want me to get you a Plan B? We can-“

“We were supposed to be talking, Eren,” you wrong your hands in his shirt.

A cocky grin spread across Eren’s face. “Oh, she was definitely talking to me,” he moves to cup your sex, but you swat his hand away. His smile drops at the deflated look in your face.

Sighing, you ask, “Are we ever going to talk about this?”

He frowns, brushing your hair out of your face. “I thought we were gonna forget about it? One time thing, you know?”

You sigh softly and slip your hands under the hem of his shirt. As you run your hands along the ridges of Eren’s abdomen, his cock bobs.

“We can’t keep using that as an excuse to-“

“Do you regret it?”

“Huh?” Your head snaps up to meet his gaze and his eyes are glinting mischievously.

Squeezing your face between his fingers, Eren pulls your face towards his. His tongue slides along your bottom lip before he reclines. “Do you regret this? Us?”

You swallow.

You don’t respond.

But this time, Eren knows better.

He captures you in a slow, sloppy kiss. His lips meld to yours as he murmurs, “I don’t think we have to talk about anything then.” He sucks your bottom lip slowly, letting it swell in his mouth, before smirking impishly as he rasps, “Talking’s overrated.”

[caramelcleopatraa]

TEAR IT UP

word count: 1.4k

x: took me a couple of days to finish this. excuse any errors you see. hope you guys enjoy this <3 please comment... I love comments.

content: Roman Reigns x Aahliyah, 18+ MDNI, creampie, doggy, missionary, dirty talk

His thrusts were strong enough to knock the wind out of her. And they were, making her lose her mind in the best possible way. The fresh crescents that formed on his wrist from her fingernails were fresh as she clinged onto him to dear life. She was already dripping before he even touched her, so she couldn’t imagine the mess that she was making. Not that she would be thinking about that right now. Not when he’s in her ear saying all of her favorite things, knowing the effect he has on her. “Damn, you’re taking daddy’s dick so good.” With her face pressed into the pillows, she couldn’t see his face, but she already knew that he was wearing that smug smile, confident in his ability to give her good dick. And he always delivered. He was in complete control, moving and maneuvering her however he wanted. “Talk to me baby, let me hear you.” He couldn’t possibly expect her to talk back right now, especially when she’s face down ass up with her hands held behind her back. She stares at the empty wall, focusing on nothing but how good he is dicking her down. “I- umm- I- oh fuckk daddyy.” He chuckles to himself and replies, “I can’t hear you, do I need to slow down?”

Her eyes rolled as he milked out his thrusts, teasing her in the most agonizing way. “Noo, daddy pleasee!” He lets her hands go, but she keeps her hands in the same spot, while his hands palm her ass. Feeling him knead at her ass greedily made her wetter. “Please what?” The harsh spank that he gave her made jump, and momentarily brought her out of her haze. “Please keep going. Make me cum, I want it so bad.” Roman’s large hands left her ass, while he slid out of her, making his way to sit beside her. “Come ride this dick.” Without hesitation, she straddles his thick thighs and stabilizes herself by holding onto his shoulders. She let herself have a little fun, dragging his tip up and down her folds. His ragged breaths let her know that he was enjoying this. But those ragged breaths would become loud grunts as she slowly lowered her hips, taking all of him. He filled her up so well, and she was addicted to that feeling. Of course she was addicted. Sinking down onto him felt like heaven each time. His wandering hands grabbed her ass while her hips parted from his thighs to sink down onto him again. And again, and again, and again.

“Bounce on that dick Aahliyah. Get that nut baby.”

That was all she needed to hear. 

Her hands trailed from his shoulders to his chest, pushing him down on the bed. She started to grind her hips, biting her lip at how good he felt. The long vertical mirror displayed both of them, entangled in each other. He took occasional glances at the mirror to see her ass slam down against his legs. Her juicy titties and fat ass were his to play with, and he didn't waste a second to give either of them attention. His warm tongue swirls around her nipple, emitting soft deep moans that make her go crazy. “Daddy, I need you,” she pleads, now grinding slowly on his rock hard length. He loved hearing her ask and beg. Her soft voice pleading never failed to make him hard. “What do you need daddy to do?” She whines, knowing that he knew what she wanted. “I need you to tear this pussy up daddy,” She says, staring at his beautiful chocolate eyes. His strong arms wrap around her body, leaving no space between them. He planted his feet on the bed and wasted no time pistoning his length into her. She could only scream and shake at how good he was fucking her. She couldn't escape the cage formed around her torso. She could only lay there and take it.

“This what you wanted, huh?” She tangled her hands in his hair, babbling small yesses. “Ahh shit, I'm finna cum daddy.”She was so high off pleasure. She was sure she was shattering his eardrums with how loud she was screaming. “Mhm, Get that nut mama. Get it.” His voice was everything she needed to tip her over the edge. She hid in the crook of his neck, still grabbing at his wavy black hair. His hands reunite with her ass again, harshly grabbing at her cheeks and fucking her deeper. Her eyes roll from the mind melting orgasm. His hips slow down, allowing her to come down from her high, but they were nowhere near done. He swiftly flipped her over, swapping places. She was fucked out, fresh off of an orgasm and recovering, but he was ready to dive back into her again. 

“You okay?” She propped herself on her elbows, chest still heaving. “Yeah, that dick is too good.” He chuckles and stands on his knees, positioning himself in between her legs. “I’m glad you like it, ‘cause I'm not done.” She never wanted him to be done. Even when she’s fucked out like she is now, she always wanted that dick. “Looks like I got you hooked.”

He strokes himself a few times and aligns himself with her slit. “I don’t play bout my pussy.” She chuckles this time, amused at his response. “Prove it then. Prove you don’t play about this pussy.”

His tell-tale smirk let her know that her wish will be granted. Her legs that rested on the bed were swiftly hoisted into the air. “Hold them.” She obeyed his command and held her legs down, knees grazing the shell of her ear. She loved provoking him. She was a mouthy one, and he loved shutting her up. She tightened the grip on her legs as he entered her. Roman trained her to take his dick. Night after night after night, fucking her senseless until she became a pro. 

He had a perfect view of her. Legs held back and out of the way, pussy on display, and that lust filled stare. His thumb works lazy circles into her clit, his dick halfway submerged in her cunt. “Please move,” She whispers needily. “Be patient ma.” Before she can whine, he lets a string of spit slowly drip on his dick. She moaned at the sight, with a stronger urge for him to move his hips. He shoves the remaining inches inside of her, making her mouth form the letter O. He remained deep inside of her for a few seconds before pulling out completely and slamming back into her. He crawled to meet her and finally gave her what she asked, jackhammering himself inside of her. He observed her expressions as he beat her pussy up. Every moan was fuel for him to keep going. “Ughh, keep fucking this pussy Daddyy, don’t stop.” Her grip on her legs loosened as she melted into the bed. “Don’t make me have to hold your legs in place,” Roman growled in her ear, making her whimper and flimsy grab at her legs to keep them in place. The sinful squelches and smacks of their hips meeting acted as background music, and she was the main vocalist. Her eyes scanned up and down his flawless frame. She had a picture perfect view of him plowing into her. And his loud grunts and groans were only bringing her closer to her orgasm. 

“Mhm, take all this dick, baby.” He knew she was close. The way that she was clenching onto him everytime he pulled out confirmed that for him. “Damn daddyy, you finna make me cum.” He chuckled to himself. He could unravel her so fast, and he left her asking for more. “Go ‘head. Cum all over this dick.” She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back while she lost all control. A ring of her cum formed around the base of his cock. Roman used his right hand to lightly squeeze her throat. He was close too. His pace was slower now, but deep, overstimulating Aahliyah. His face contorted in pleasure, relishing in her wetness. “Damn girl, I'm finna come all up in this pussy. Fuck, this pussy feels so good.” He gave her a few powerful thrusts before coming deep inside of her. They moaned in unison at the feeling of the warm liquid coating her walls. They were both glowing, entranced by the intense wave of pleasure flowing through their bodies. She let go of her legs and wrapped her arms around his neck and enveloped in a passionate kiss. He pulled away panting, staring deep into her eyes.

“I told you daddy doesn't play about his pussy.”

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Roman Bridger

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(Sorry if you're allergic to cats...guess you'll just die then.)

- You're a good mother....

- ...Well a good cat mother, but maternal instinct knows no bounds, right? Especially in relation to a twenty something year old female with far too much time on her hands. You had to wrench your kitten out of an alleyway full of cobwebs in order to save it's life, but you don't regret a single second of it. The fading scars on your forearms from his defensive assaults and the bricks that caged him are just a reminder of how far you've come; how well you've taken care of your now mild mannered little man.

- You love Boxes with every inch of your being, so much so that even total strangers can see it: total strangers like Roman Bridger, the man who's lived in your apartment complex even longer than you have. He can still remember the night you came home with the little thing cradled in your arms: kept close to you and away from the cold regardless of how filthy his fur had been; covered in dirt and trash and dust bunnies.

- He was in the lobby looking through his mail when he heard you walk in, cooing at and lightly scolding the stray as it sat cocooned in your jacket, hissing at you in response to your kindness. His throat had gone dry at the sound of your voice, at the sight of pride on your face; a sight which even the dirt on your skin couldn't sully. You were the most invigorating thing he'd ever seen, and he'd decided in that moment that he had to have you.

- Roman had caught glimpses of you around the building since the day you'd moved in, always just missing you as you went up and down the stairs or in and out of your apartment. He'd had no real interest in you up until that moment, always too absorbed in his own life to bother paying attention to yours. The two of you lived on opposite ends of the same floor, separated enough to where it really didn't matter if he introduced himself or not. You had other neighbors, and you typically ran on different schedules; you hardly even knew he existed and he didn't go out of his way to make himself known.

- But suddenly, he felt as though he had to get to know you: get to know the type of person who could take something in off the street and care for it unconditionally. Someone who would fight tooth and nail to love something: who would refuse to fail in their attempts to save it even as it pained them, even as they punished them for it. In the back of his mind, he knew this obsession of his was a product of his upbringing, but he simply didn't care. You were everything he'd ever wanted, and he wasn't going to let you get away...

- He watched for months as you cultivated a relationship with the little fiend: watched as the scratches on your hands and arms began to disappear, replaced by patches of loose fur hanging off of your clothing. He watched as you bought food and toys and everything else it could ever need, and eventually, he watched as your precious pet began meeting you at your door, curling around your ankles every time you returned home.

- It's a tale as old as time: pet owner leaves door slightly ajar while bringing in groceries, and their animal takes the chance to dash out and run away.

- Admittedly, Boxes had simply been sitting in your doorway, patiently waiting for you as you made your way back to your car for the final few bags that you needed to bring in. But you didn't know that. You were still hunched inside your trunk when Roman returned home and scaled the steps to your shared floor, catching sight of the feline as he fished his keys out of his pocket. He'd made sure that you were gone before he'd done anything, locking eyes with the furball as he kneeled down and called him over, watching as Boxes happily trotted towards him and allowed himself to be pet.

- You were still nowhere to be found as he scooped him up and weighed his options, glancing down the staircase to ensure that you wouldn't catch him as he carried Boxes into his own apartment, dropping him delicately onto his couch. He felt a little bad hearing you later in the day, calling for your lost pet as you searched your apartment and the hallways outside of it, but he soothed himself with the knowledge that he was creating a classic love story. He'd always wanted to make one after all....

- He kept Boxes for about a week: up until you started asking around and hanging up Missing posters, giving him the perfect excuse to finally approach you. He'd practiced in the mirror before he'd made his way over, checking his appearance a couple times before scooping Boxes up and knocking on your door.

- He'd given you a friendly yet sheepish smile when you'd answered, watching your face light up with relief and excitement upon seeing Boxes safe in his arms. He'd apologized for worrying you, claiming that he'd found him wandering the streets a couple days earlier and had been taking care of him ever since: that he just feels terrible knowing that he's kept him from you, and that it's such a coincidence that the two of you ended up being neighbors.

"I've only had him for a couple days, but I'm sure I'm gonna miss him now that he's gone. I should have known he wasn't a stray, he's too sweet to be living on the street." He'd gushed, pushing his glasses up his nose and smiling at you.

"Well, you're welcome to visit him any time you'd like. It's the least I can do after you brought him back home to me." Came your reply: the very "in" that he'd been looking for with his perfectly orchestrated plan.

- Roman takes this offer as a chance to ask you out, catching up with you in the hallway a couple days later and claiming that he has something for Boxes, something he forgot he bought for him during their time together. You watch as he enters his apartment and comes out a few seconds later, brandishing a cat toy as he smiles at you and explains that he feels kind of silly keeping it around with no cat. You open your door for him and watch as Boxes happily greets the two of you; making a mental note of the fact that he very obviously approves of your rather attractive neighbor. Animals are always a good judge of character, right?

- You watch as Roman kneels down to pet him, stroking his fur before showing him the toy that he's brought over, tossing it across your floor for Boxes to run after and attack. You watch as your cat attempts war crimes on the colorful, feathery thing before you're interrupted by the sound of Roman asking you out to dinner, an offer you eagerly accept. He makes some plans with you before he leaves, giving you his number and promising to pick you up at a certain time the next day, saying goodbye to both you and your furry little friend.

- Your first date takes place at a rather expensive restaurant: one you're sure you couldn't afford to dine at if you weren't in the company of Roman Bridger, director. The more you learn about him, the more you seem to like him. He's everything a girl could ever want in a guy: sweet, funny, charming, accomplished. The type of person you could take home to your parents: the type of person who's good for you.

- It's all too easy to agree to another date by the time you're both returning home to your apartments, smiling at each other from across the hall as you unlock your doors and wave a final goodbye. It only takes another date or two before you share your first kiss.

- All it took was him looking up at you from his kneeling position on your floor, and you'd found yourself overcome with the unwavering urge to kiss him. You're sure he saw the expression on your face when your eyes finally met, his hand pausing in it's efforts to pet Boxes so that he could focus on you even more, raising up to his full height after a couple of moments and leaning down to meet you halfway, kissing you softly.

- You didn't go all the way but you certainly came close to it, your kisses deepening as you made your way over to your couch, only ending when you ran out of breath and put a hand on his chest, holding him back as you both began to smile and chuckle breathlessly. He lightheartedly apologized and you brushed him off, teasingly telling him that you should say goodnight before things get out of hand.

- He presses a kiss to your lips, to your cheek, to your forehead, and finally back to your lips before murmuring goodnight, giving your hip a gentle squeeze before he stands up and straightens himself out, grinning at you as he makes his way over to your door.

"See you tomorrow?" He questions as he walks halfway out the door, beginning to close it behind him as he sticks his head in to look at you.

"Tomorrow." You confirm with a smile.

- Tomorrow and forever.

- I think that Roman naturally tries to keep your relationship somewhat private: especially if he intends on including you in some of his future schemes; whether you're fully conscious of what you're helping him accomplish or not. But I also think that he'd use the public and the paparazzi to his advantage if he ever felt threatened: purposefully outing you as his significant other in an attempt to pressure you into staying with him or to keep other men away from you; knowing that it'll be much harder for you to leave him when the entire world is keeping an eye on you and all of your decisions. So PDA in your relationship really just depends on how much your celebrity boyfriend wants the public to know about the two of you.

- The first thing you'll notice about Roman is that he acts differently when he's in different company, and his affection towards you oftentimes reflects that. He has a tendency to act dramatic and melt into you whenever you're on set with him: laying his head on your shoulder and/or hiding his face in some part of your body whenever his work is stressing him out. He tries to keep his affection to a minimum and mimic the relationship of a close friend and/or long time boss: wrapping his arm around you and leaning in close to mutter things in your ear; keeping things between you somewhat ambiguous and hiding your relationship in plain sight.

- He makes whoever takes notice of his actions or walks in on the two of you in a more intimate setting feel like they're the ones in the wrong, and that they're intruding on something they have no business telling anyone about. Though he acts unphased by the persons sudden interruption; stepping away from you smoothly or not moving a muscle until they hurriedly excuse themselves, his lack of guilt sends a very clear and obvious message: tell whoever you want, I'm still the one in control and you're still risking your job....

- When you're not in public together, he usually acts very sweet and clingy with you, loving to lay against you and seek comfort from your touch. It isn't uncommon for him to lay his head in your lap and feel you scratch at his scalp or wrap your arms around him, taking the time to talk about your days while you relax against one another and bask in the quietness of your surroundings.

- Hugs from behind and kisses on the cheek.

- Romans kisses have a tendency to vary: how he kisses you one day might be the opposite of how he kisses you the next; it all just depends on his mood and what he's trying to portray himself as. I think he'd try to act as normal as possible for as long as possible, kissing you soft and slow and sweet, trying to make himself seem like the kind and perfect boyfriend that he wants you to think of him as.

- When that mask of his starts to slip, his kisses take on a much more rushed and rougher feel: turning hungry and needy and passionate. He refuses to let you go or explain himself so you're oftentimes swept up in the emotion that he's suddenly pouring into you. And when you seem to thoroughly enjoy this more depraved version of him; teasingly asking "who" he was last night, he feels reassured in the idea of you being able to love him, the real him. Lets just say that things are never boring with him.

- When the two of you cuddle, he oftentimes treats you like an oversized stuffed animal: wrapping himself tightly around you and grumbling whenever you try to move away, burrowing his face in your hair and squeezing you just that tiny bit tighter. Since he's so whiny, you'd think that he'd complain about your hair getting in his face, but I feel like he'd get so used to it that he'd start having trouble sleeping without the feeling. P.s. it's crucial to him that you want to cuddle with him, so bonus points if you're equally as needy for snuggles.

- He mainly calls you honey but can get a little 'Jack Torrance' on you whenever you're upset with him or not listening: spouting off exaggerated pet names in an effort to get you to talk to or hear him out. He also might call you his partner in crime; sometimes even before you realize the extent of what that could mean....

- Being alone in his apartment after spending all week with you makes him feel like a miserable divorced man who still misses his wife. Everything bad that happens to him is because you aren't there with him, he uses every minor inconvenience and excuse to call you, and he's unnecessarily bored and stressed whenever he doesn't have you in the house with him; sitting in the other room and able to occasionally observe the same way you would a fish tank whenever he needs a break from whatever he's doing.

- You're kind of like his emotional support girlfriend: you go along with him to a lot of different places; especially when he thinks something is going to be a hassle and needs some reassuring company. You'll sit in his lap while he goes through all of his different movie cuts and rants to you about his work, squeezing and patting your thighs for emphasis whenever he gets really caught up in what he's saying. Or he'll pace around while you sit in his office and try your best to soothe him, cupping his face in your hands or rubbing his back while he whines and pouts and insists that "no, no everything isn't going to be alright".

- The two of you probably meet just as he's starting to get more credentials under his belt, so when he finally decides to move in to a new and much more expensive apartment/penthouse, he probably convinces you to move in with him. Although, even if you didn't actually move in, you're bound to spend a lot more time there than your own apartment.

- Growing up without a real family, Roman has always felt as though he's missed out on all the stereotypical experiences that one would have with all of their closest loved ones. So when he gets together with you and finally feels as though he has a genuine connection with someone, he's very eager to make memories and do all of the things that he's always yearned to do.

- Spending holidays together and indulging in all of the traditions that one would expect from them. Haunted houses, hay rides, ice skating, ski resorts, picking out trees, decorating together, etc. He might occasionally seem like he's too grown up for such arguably juvenile activities, but he's actually the one eagerly anticipating and planning things out; clearing your schedules and/or making a fuss over you being too busy/not wanting to participate.

- Roman is very passionate about his "visions". Regardless of what you're doing together, he usually has a very specific idea in his head about what it should look like, and will subsequently be very anal about making sure it's as close as possible to what he's imagining: whether he's picking out clothes for the two of you or decorating your house. It's simply what you get for dating an artistic and creative man.

- Him making home movies of you and/or taking a bunch of photos. It isn't uncommon for him to position you however he wants you, or to suddenly find him filming you; even if you're not doing anything special. You just have to get used to him cataloging your lives together, and understand that he's doing it because he loves you and thinks you're beautiful.

- Arguably trivial details can mean the world to him, and he'll oftentimes make something seem like a far bigger deal than it actually is. He'll insist that he needs to see you "asap" then ask about your opinion on something you simply don't see the importance of and/or have already talked to him about five times already. Expect him to obsess over every little detail and be very particular about things, showing up to your house at odd hours of the day because he needs to ask if you prefer Chantilly Lace or White Heron for the backdrop of his latest scene. Keep in mind: everything is important to Roman.

- Roman memorizes everything you say; almost to an alarming extent. Yes, it's romantic that he knows you like the back of his hand, but when he can guess what you're about to say down to the exact way that you were going to say it, it does occasionally give you the creeps.

- It's important to note that Roman has intense mommy issues, and that everything you expect from someone who grew up in his same predicament can be magnified ten times in relation to how he behaves. Abandonment issues, fear of rejection, trust issues, validation seeking: it's all a big part of his personality, and it's just something you're going to have to work with him on.

- Try your best to bring up/compliment the little details in his work that you think no one has noticed before. He'll immediately light up and gush about whatever it is, eagerly explaining it to you and showing off as he subtly fishes for more praise. He loves to flaunt his knowledge and talent; and to receive validation, so it's the perfect way to cheer him up whenever you think his stress is getting the best of him.

- Being invited on set. If you are allergic to cats then there's a good chance that you met him as his agent or secretary. Regardless, you've had a lot of amusing moments with his employees and their reactions to finding out that they've just flirted with their new bosses girlfriend.

- He's super sweet in private but can act like a little shit when you're out in front of other people: wanting to keep his reputation of being a cocky and obnoxious director up whenever you're around "the public". It might confuse you if you're unaware of his secret and more devious endeavors, not understanding why he'd want to be known as a stereotypical asshole, but you're just happy that he isn't like that all of the time.

- Meeting with him for lunch whenever he's particularly busy. He tries his best to always make at least a little time for you; even when his schedule is a bit hectic.

- Reminding him of work events and meetings that he has.

- Going to Hollywood house parties with him ...or not: he has a love hate relationship with the idea. You'll reassure him that nothing will happen to you and convince him to let you accompany him, but he'll still keep his hands on you the entire time, his grip on you tight, protective and unrelenting. Even as manage to stray a little ways away to look around or talk to different people, his eyes will continuously find you in the crowd and interrupt immediately if he doesn't like the way a certain interaction of yours looks.

- If he's really against the idea of you coming to the aforementioned parties, then he's bound to make it up to you by letting you accompany him to different dinner meetings and/or award shows: settings he deems as much more professional and safe.

- Five star restaurants and other expensive dates.

- He always remembers your anniversaries and does his best to make them special for you: never failing to make a sentimental little toast over a glass of champagne; whether you're comfortable at home or seated in a five star restaurant.

- Mini vacations. Beaches, resorts, cabin retreats, five star hotels, etc. He needs a break from his day to day life every so often, and since you've practically become a part of him, you're obviously coming along for the ride.

- Pool and hot tub dates.

- Movie dates where he overanalyzes the shit out of them: acting like a stereotypical pretentious film student as he gushes over their camera work and directing talents.

- Relaxing at home on your couches after a long day, drinking some wine and taking turns rubbing each others sore limbs: scratching scalps and smoothing hands down each others backs as you both collapse into odd and tired positions.

- Wholeheartedly denies having a favorite stuffed animal of yours, but still always grabs or leans against the exact same one whenever he's waiting in your room for you.

- Sharing eye glasses. The two of you get used to yoinking your prescriptions off of each others faces whenever you need to read something and don't know where your own spectacles are.

- He's always the one in the relationship to get rid of spiders, and yet, you almost always argue over whether or not he's "allowed" to kill them.

"You want me to handle it, but I have to bring it outside?? Just let me squish it!"

"No!!!"

- He has a habit of teasing you, making little comments or "complaints" about your personality or your physical traits, yet he's actually the epitome of "the smell of your hair reminds me of the smell of her feet". He is genuinely obsessed with you and loves even the worst parts of you so wholeheartedly that it's kind of amazing; even if he never outwardly admits it. You sort of just have to read between the lines: like how he calls you a zombie without makeup yet is always the one making moves on you whenever you're barefaced or saying he prefers your more natural makeup looks whenever you ask his opinion on things.

- He always refuses to let you pay for things. He loves the feeling of being able to take care of you and the pride that comes from it.

- Nonchalantly gives you his credit card whenever you want something: like genuinely doesn't even question it when he hands it over, and just trusts you not to completely bankrupt him before he even hears what you're actually asking for.

- When you're living in an area as congested as Los Angeles, it helps to have a boyfriend with a nice car and a not so strict schedule who can drive you to work or college whenever you're both heading out at the same time. It's also nice having a boyfriend who mindlessly lets you borrow his car whenever he's not using it: letting you run errands or drive yourself around whenever he's busy at work; so long as you make it back by the time he's done shooting.

- He likes calling to check in with you whenever he's out of the house and/or out of town: telling you when he's coming home, where he is, what he's doing, asking what you're doing, etc. He may or may not be using you as an alibi whenever he's out committing crimes, but that's neither here nor there.

- Being dragged into his Ghostface affairs in one way or another; whether you're fully aware of it or not. You might not help him do any of the actual killing, but there's still other ways that you can be of service: providing alibis, destroying evidence, communicating with people for him, laying out traps, etc.

- Get used to manipulation and ulterior motives. There's gonna be a point in your relationship where he confesses to everything and you finally realize that innocent little Roman is the mastermind to a lot of things you weren't even aware of; down to even the smallest of details. It's a startling realization but at that point, you're probably already stuck with him and incapable of getting away from him even if you wanted to.

- Having him assure you that nothing will happen to you when the murders start occurring all around you; maybe even comforting him when he comes home from the police station and talks to you about the news that you've been seeing all over the tv. You don't realize that he's so certain that you'll be safe because he's the one behind it all....

- As athletic and psychotic as Roman can be, he's honestly pretty shit at killing people. He's clumsy and inexperienced and sort of scrambling whenever he's forced to do his own dirty work, so you're probably forced to tend to his wounds a lot because he manages to hurt himself even when he's doing something simple and/or something he considers himself fully capable of accomplishing. Catch him dropping boxes on his feet while moving or cutting himself while cooking.

- That being said: his overall clumsiness makes it easier for him to come home covered in bruises and use the simple excuse of getting into some kind of accident, hiding his smile as you fuss over him and his various injuries. Don't believe him babe, he's killing people.

- Taking turns cooking for each other. He's been on his own for a while so he definitely knows how to cook for himself and for other people. But because he's been on his own for so long, he also loves the feeling of finally being taken care of as well.

- Would lowkey immediately break down into tears if you told him that it was okay to cry. Once the two of you are close enough, he opens up about his traumas and rants to you about his childhood, desperately wanting you to agree with him and to reassure him that his opinions are correct. He can get very dramatic and emotional so just try your best to comfort and calm him down: it surprisingly doesn't take much; not when it's you.

- The perfect guy to bring home to your parents. Roman sort of adopts your family as his own: especially in the case of your mother; if the two of you are close with each other. He loves her a lot and becomes her golden boy who simply can't say no to her: always bringing gifts whenever he comes to visit, sending mothers day flowers, and agreeing to whatever she asks of him; which makes it imperative that you form an alliance with her if you really want something from him.

- Always notices when you get jealous over him and his past relationships/one night stands. He honestly loves to see it, to know that you love him as much as he loves you and that you hate the idea of him being with other people, that you genuinely care if he's a part of your life or not. He always assures you that it "was nothing" whenever you see his actresses cooing at him and making it known that they slept together, but he's still all to pleased whenever you get all snippy with and territorial over him.

- His jealousy is capable of transcending the actual actions of other men: like sometimes you simply look so good that it triggers an unhealed part of himself and makes him sick. All he can do is sit there and imagine someone else seeing and falling for you and learning to love you the way that he has, and it makes him think evil thoughts. He's the type of boyfriend who would try to sway you from going out with your friends and/or wearing certain things. And he hates it whenever your guy friends/strangers try to act all buddy-buddy with him whenever the two of you are out together: it turns him borderline murderous and ruins his night.

- He's also the type of boyfriend who would get jealous over you innocently complimenting another person; even if it's just someone on the television or in an actors headshot he's looking at. He stands there glaring at them all stoic and stern, so obviously upset that you notice right away because he genuinely looks like he's got a thousand yard stare. Roman is simply a jealous man to his core.

- Roman loves you like a dog and he protects you like one too: like a stray who knows exactly what it's like to be left out in the cold, and is scared of losing the only home it's ever had. He always wants you to feel like he's there for you and that he loves you with every fiber of his being, so his protectiveness and the violence or the cruelty that comes from it can feel an awful lot like desperation. He stops at nothing to keep you safe and comfortable, and it's in those moments that you can see his carefully crafted facade start to slip and show you the darkness that lies beneath it.

- Your boyfriend outsasses you and it's devastating. Roman is so tightly strung that the two of you probably bicker/argue a considerable amount. And while he can occasionally be a little shit and act a little mean, all it takes is one look from you and he usually redirects his anger or tries to change the subject.

"Fine, fine, I'm sorry. But just-just listen, alright?"

- I mentioned them before but Romans abandonment issues are a big part of why he apologizes so quickly; his general obsession with you also plays a part in it. He hates going to bed angry and/or not being on speaking terms with you so he tries his best to get you to forgive him as quickly as possible; that's usually where the aforementioned 'Jack Torrance' impression comes in. Honestly though, even if you're still fighting by the time you're ready for bed, you still end up cuddling because he simply cannot sleep without you.

- He tells you that he loves you a lot. He also needs to hear you say it back to him in order to have a good day so try to keep that in mind.

- Sorry but you're stuck with him. Roman simply won't let you leave him, he'd honestly either kidnap or kill you before he'd allow that to happen. Regardless, expect a very nice engagement ring to be offered to you not too long into your relationship. He's not incredibly fond of kids so he's gotta find some other way to tie you down as quickly as possible....

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑵𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: she's back again. hope you enjoy this one as always, please leave me replies and likes n shit because it helps with the motivation and i love talking to people about it gahhh

CW/TW: light angst, mentions of violence, and Seth Rollins. he needs a warning on his own.

Tags: @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup @trentybenty @pittieprincess22

@electronicwitchsandwich @thefairywithboots

(If you want to be tagged in any future Roman fics, just let me know!)

Eight years.

Eight. Fucking. Years.

Pushing a decade since Roman Reigns had last seen Seth Rollins. And now, after all that time, he was headed straight for a meeting that felt uncomfortably like stepping into a cage with a venomous animal. A serpent, slick and coiled, lying in wait.

The SUV hummed steadily beneath his hands, the engine a low growl that matched the tension curling in his chest. Beside him, Nate sat with a distant, unreadable expression, her fingers tracing slow, absent-minded circles on the fabric of her jeans. Her usual veneer of sharp, calculated confidence had been replaced by something raw and unpolished—like a blade that had been sharpened too many times and now threatened to snap. The incident with Boris and Alexei ganging up on Katya… and the vicious switch in her father’s disposition during their last encounter. It all shook her—more than she let on. But even now, she carried herself with a quiet intensity that made it clear she wasn’t fragile. Whatever storm churned behind her eyes, it hadn’t broken her.

Behind them, the low murmur of voices from the backseat added a strange counterpoint to the thick silence up front. Jimmy and Jey were mid-banter as usual, the rhythm of their exchange as natural as breathing, while Sami—wedged awkwardly between them—offered occasional nervous laughs. Solo, however, was silent, his presence brooding and heavy, as if he could fill the entire vehicle with his sheer displeasure.

Roman’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, catching his enforcer’s watchful eyes. The unspoken tension between them was a steady undercurrent, but Roman chose not to address it. It wasn’t worth it.

Not yet.

“I’m just sayin’, man,” Jimmy piped up, leaning forward with a grin. “Two weeks before Christmas is a hell of a time to be dragging us out like this. You know what I could’ve been doin’ instead?”

“Ain’t no better time for business than now,” Jey replied, nudging his twin. “Half these fools too busy kissin’ under mistletoe to notice what’s really goin’ on.”

Sami chuckled anxiously, his eyes darting over at Nate as if seeking her approval. “I mean… it’s intense, right? Meeting Seth Rollins. The guy is—”

“A snake,” Roman cut in sharply, his voice like a crack of thunder in the confined space. His jaw tightened, and his fingers flexed on the wheel. “Seth’s a snake. Always has been.”

Nate’s lips twitched, a flicker of amusement that didn’t quite form into a smile. She didn’t need to ask for details; Roman had already told her the whole story in his rare moment of unguarded honesty the night of Alexei’s engagement celebration. How Seth’s betrayal had nearly cost him everything—not just regarding business, but his pride.

She could understand that. Hell, she could even empathise. Traitors weren’t just dangerous—they were personal.

“I-I know it’s not my place to ask,” Sami ventured hesitantly, “But… you sure about this, Boss?”

Roman didn’t bother looking at him. His eyes stayed locked on the road, the stretch of asphalt ahead illuminated by the harsh glare of the SUV’s headlights. “We do what we have to,” he said flatly. “If Seth has something we could use, we’re gonna take it. End of story.”

Sami shrank back slightly, his nervous energy radiating like static. Beside Roman, Nate stirred, her voice low enough that only he could hear.

“Before we get there,” she murmured, “A warning.”

Roman arched a brow, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Oh? You think I need one?”

“I think your pride has a nasty habit of making decisions for you,” she replied evenly, cool but not unkind.

The twins exchanged a glance in the backseat, Jey arching an eyebrow at Jimmy as if to say, “She’s really pushing it, huh?” Sami, ever the peacemaker, tried to lighten the mood with a small chuckle.

“You really know how to keep him on his toes, Nate,” he offered.

Nate didn’t even glance back, her focus fixed on Roman. “Seth’s not here to settle a score,” she continued. “He’s here because his wife’s convinced him to offer information. And you’d better make sure to keep any ego on a leash before you let it get the better of you.”

Roman’s grip on the wheel was almost death-like. But he didn’t snap at her. Not this time. Instead, he just let her comment hang like a taut wire about to break.

Jimmy let out a low whistle, leaning back in his seat. “Man, I ain’t ever seen anyone talk to you like that before, Uce.”

“Shut up,” Roman muttered, though there was no real venom in his voice.

As the SUV slowed to a stop at their destination—a deserted parking lot on the outskirts of the city—Roman scanned the area with a practised eye. The single streetlamp overhead cast long, spidery shadows across the cracked pavement, and the only other vehicle in sight was a dark sedan parked a safe distance away.

Nate was already unbuckling her seatbelt, her movements quick and efficient. “Stay here,” she said without looking at Roman. “I just need to make sure they’re ready for… Uh, well, you.”

Roman’s gaze narrowed, his lips curving into a faint, wolfish grin. “You actin’ like I can’t handle myself, Volkov.”

“I’m acting like someone who knows a shitshow when she sees one,” Nate shot back, her tone edged with just enough sarcasm to make him pause. “Give me five minutes.”

He stared at her for a long moment, the weight of his scrutiny pressing down on her like a physical force. But to her credit, she didn’t flinch.

“Fine,” he said at last, leaning back in his seat with a sigh. “But don’t take too long.”

As Nate stepped out of the SUV, the twins exchanged a look of disbelief.

“You see that?” Jey whispered, elbowing Jimmy. “She’s got him on a leash, man.”

Jimmy grinned, shaking his head. “Ain’t no leash. She’s jus–”

“Enough,” Roman growled, cutting off their laughter with a single word.

But even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the strange sense of unease coiling in his chest. He watched Nate approached the sedan, her silhouette sharp and unyielding against the harsh glow of the streetlamp.

“Man, she’s somethin’ else,” Jey muttered under his breath.

“Yeah,” Jimmy agreed quietly. “But, uh, you think she’s… worth it?”

Roman didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on Nate, his thoughts a tangled web of doubt, frustration, and something dangerously close to admiration.

In the rear end of the car, Solo shifted, his eyes narrowing as he also watched Nate, but with an intensity that bordered on hostility.

“She’s takin’ liberties,” he hummed.

“Yeah?” Roman said, eyeing Solo in the rearview mirror. “You got a problem with that?”

Jaw tightening, Solo refused to reply. The silence that followed was heavy and oppressive—Roman practically felt the heavy tension between them, thick enough to choke on.

Nate adjusted her jacket against the chill of the evening as she stepped out and away from the SUV. She needed this meeting to go well. She knew that there’d have to be some… discussion prior to bringing Roman into the equation, but she wasn’t prepared for just how much the idea of explaining Roman’s involvement to Seth would feel like walking into a minefield.

Seth Rollins wasn’t exactly known for his restraint, and based on what Roman had told her about their history… it wasn’t going to be a friendly reunion.

As she approached them, Becky noticed her and gave a sly smile. She had one arm casually slung around Seth’s shoulders, leaning into him like they were in their own world. Seth, meanwhile, glanced at Nate with open curiosity and mild suspicion.

“You’re finally here,” Becky said. “Thought maybe you’d changed your mind about meeting the second-best architect in New York.”

Nate raised an eyebrow. “Second-best? You finally admitting defeat?”

Becky laughed. “Not a chance.”

Nate’s attention turned to Seth, who studied her carefully. He wasn’t what she expected—not entirely, anyway. His sharp eyes gave him an air of unpredictability, and his grin held a touch of mischief. But there was something grounded about it, too, like he was the only one keeping Becky tethered to reality. And… possibly vice versa.

“And you must be Seth Rollins,” Nate offered a hand. “Thanks for coming. Becky told me… a bit about you.”

Seth clasped her hand, his grip firm but not overbearing. “Yeah, well, Becks tends to leave out the boring parts. So what’s the deal? She said you needed help, but she wasn’t exactly handing out details.”

Nate hesitated. She wasn’t one for oversharing, but there was no avoiding this part. “We’ll get to that,” she said, glancing at Becky for support. “But first… I just need to let you know… something.” She cringed a little at her inability to correctly construct what was sure to be a groundbreaking revelation for both of them. “The other… person I’m working with. It’s… Well, it’s someone you’ve… known before?” Nate clasped her hands together, furrowing her brows at Seth.

Becky immediately straightened, sensing the apprehension in Nate’s voice. “Oh, God, Nate, who?”

Nate looked between them, weighing her words carefully. “Uh… Roman Reigns.”

The reaction was instant. Seth stiffened, his jaw tightening as he pulled his hands up to his head like he’d been burned. “Nope,” he said flatly, stepping back. “I’m out.”

Becky blinked, caught off-guard. “Seth—”

“No way,” he cut her off, pacing a short distance away. “I’m not working with that guy. Are you serious, Becky? You couldn’t warn me about this?”

“I didn’t know either!”

Nate held up a hand, trying to calm him. “Look, I know—”

“No, you don’t know,” Seth interrupted, pointing at her. “That guy? He’s a control freak. Thinks he’s better than everyone else. Hell, he probably still thinks he owns the damn universe.”

“Hang on, that’s not fair,” Nate said curtly, surprising even herself with the edge in her voice. Seth’s eyes snapped to her, but she didn’t hesitate. “Not based on what I’ve been told, anyway.”

“Ohhh of course, he’s told you everything, right?”

“Seth–”

“He’s told you allll about the times he got all the credit, he got all the adulation from everyone we ever came across. And all about the time I was told, I was promised, an out if I took him out!”

“No, he hasn’t told me about the charisma he clearly possesses more than you do, but he definitely told me all about you pulling a gun out on him out of nowhere after years of loyalty,” Nate gritted her teeth, swallowing her words as soon as she said them. 

Seth’s brows angled downward as he glared at Nate. He was already ready to go back into his hole and crack open a beer. But his wife had dragged him here, meaning it had to have been important. But still…

“I’m not getting dragged into whatever ego trip he’s on this time.”

Nate took a steadying breath, reining in her impulse to defend Roman further. She wasn’t here to argue; she was here to get Seth on board. Focus.

“Look,” she said, lowering her voice, “I’m not asking you to be his best friend. I’m asking you to help me. My family could be in danger—my little sister could be in danger. People are already dead because of this, and if we don’t get to the bottom of it, there’ll be more.”

Even though Seth’s expression hardened, he didn’t walk away. So Nate pressed on, sensing an opening.

“I get it,” she said softly. “You don’t like him. I’m not asking you to. But this isn’t about Roman—it’s about stopping this mass assassination. A military-grade shipment of weapons stolen in plain sight. Damian Priest. Gone. Bad Bunny and his men. Gone. Some of the most powerful people I’ve personally ever met. Whoever is behind it, has the balls to take out an entire underground, and I’ll be damned if my family is next. My sister is twenty-years-old. Barely experienced the world. I’ve protected her up until now, but who knows how much further that can go?” She licked her lips, taking a tentative step toward Seth.

“Surely you must know what that feels like… the need to protect your family.”

She let the words hang there for a minute, knowing the implication would hit him. Seth’s gaze moved to Becky, who was watching him carefully. The subtle shift in his expression told Nate she’d struck a nerve.

“You don’t play fair, do you?” Seth muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re just like her.”

Nate glanced at Becky, who smirked at her husband. “Told you she was a smart one,” she said. “And for the record, she’s not wrong. This is bigger than any grudge any of us have.”

Seth sighed, looking between the two women. “Damn it,” he grumbled. Finally, he turned to Nate. “Fine. I’ll help. But don’t expect me to be nice about it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Nate said, a small smile on her face as she did.

Seth squinted his eyes at her, but there was no real malice behind it. “You better know what you’re doing,” he said.

“I always do,” she replied. Then, after a pause, she added, “Thank you. Really.”

Seth waved her off, already walking back toward Becky. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t make me regret this.”

“Noted,” Nate agreed with a nod before swiftly turning and heading back to the SUV to retrieve Roman. A small wash of relief took her; convincing Seth to work with Roman, even if brief and loose, would never be an easy feat. But she’d done it.

She pulled open the car door and slid halfway inside, immediately sensing the anticipation dwelling on the inside, with Roman sitting stone-faced and the rest of his crew watching her expectantly.

“Well?” Jey asked first, leaning forward slightly.

“It’s… complicated,” Nate admitted, looking directly at Roman. “It’s probably best if you come alone. Seth’s already skittish, and adding more of an entourage won’t help.”

Jimmy and Jey exchanged glances but didn’t argue. Sami nodded diplomatically. “Yeah, probably doesn’t help if we roll in looking like we’re about to start a turf war.”

Solo, on the other hand, scowled. His arms were crossed, his usual stoic demeanour giving way to something closer to frustration. “You want him to go alone?”

“It’s not ideal,” she carefully accepted. “But it’s the best chance we have of keeping things somewhat civil. Neutral.”

The enforcer’s glare shifted to Roman, silently challenging him. Roman exhaled through his nose, the barest flash of irritation crossing his face. “I’ll be fine,” he affirmed, locking eyes with Solo. “You don’t need to babysit me.”

“Ain’t about babysittin’,” Solo stiffly countered. “It’s about makin’ sure you safe, Chief. That’s my job.”

Roman’s gaze softened just enough to be noticeable. “And you do your job better than anyone… But this ain’t a fight, Solo. It’s a conversation. Let me handle it.”

Solo hesitated but eventually nodded, though his posture remained rigid. On guard. Nate noted the exchange but didn’t comment, instead nodding toward the door. “Come on, bol’shoy paren’,” she said to Roman. “Let’s get this shit done.”

They both stepped out into the cool night air, the silence between them stretching as they walked. Nate glanced at Roman, noticing how his jaw was already clenching as he caught the distant sight of his former brother, and let out a heavy sigh.

“Don’t be a bitch about this, alright?” she breathed, her tone light but pointed.

Roman shot her a sidelong look, one dark eyebrow arching. “You think I’m incompetent, Princess?”

Nate smirked, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes. She tilted her head slightly, her British accent dropping with playful mockery. “Oh, I definitely don’t think you’re incompetent, darling.”

Roman’s lips twitched, his expression briefly cracking with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. He didn’t miss the way she emphasised the word, the memory of their most recent encounter whispering between them like a live wire. “Watch it,” he teased, the heat in his tone anything but malicious.

They reached the middle of the parking lot, where Seth and Becky were waiting by their car. As soon as Roman and Seth locked eyes, the tension skyrocketed. It was like watching two apex predators sizing each other up, neither willing to back down. Roman stood tall, his presence commanding as always, while Seth leaned casually against the car, his smirk a deliberate provocation.

Nate exchanged a quick glance with Becky, who looked equally bewildered by the sudden standoff. “What the fuck…” Becky mumbled under her breath, looking between the two men.

“Don’t ask me,” Nate replied quietly, crossing her arms. “I think this is just… testosterone.”

The silence stretched out uncomfortably until Nate finally decided to intervene. “Right,” she said, clearing her throat. “What have you got for us, Seth?”

Without breaking eye contact with Roman, Seth pushed off the car and gestured toward the trunk. “Back here.”

Roman frowned. “Why?”

Seth glanced at him with an unreadable facade. 

“Because I’m going to kill you, put you in my trunk, and piss on your corpse,” he said with a deadpan delivery.

Becky audibly groaned, her head falling into her hand. “Jesus, Seth…”

It was hard to tell if the emotion that caught Roman was amusement or annoyance.

“Charming,” he said dryly.

“Hey,” Seth shrugged, “Just getting it out of my system.”

“Done yet?” the Samoan asked flatly.

“Not even close,” Seth shot back, opening the trunk.

Becky sighed, leaning toward Nate. “This is going great, don’t you think?”

“Oh, swimmingly,” Nate snorted, thick with sarcasm. Roman and Seth could continue their silent battle of wills if they wanted, but for now, she was more concerned about keeping the night from devolving into chaos.

Seth motioned toward the open trunk, revealing a stack of folders and a laptop that looked like it had seen its fair share of back-alley dealings. He picked up the top folder, flipping it open too casually, considering the weight of the information inside.

“Here’s what I’ve got,” he began, his tone switching to professional. “I’ve been keeping tabs on movements that feel… off. Have been for years, call it a… hobby of sorts. Funds shifting around, old accounts suddenly waking up—things that don’t scream ‘legit.’” He glanced at Roman, smirking a little. “So, when exactly did this shipment of yours go missing?”

“September,” Roman replied.

“Hmm,” Seth murmured, pulling out a piece of paper with a handwritten timeline. “Figures.” He looked at Becky briefly before continuing. “You said Damian Priest was taken out during the same event, right? What’d it look like? Close quarters? Long range?”

Roman exchanged a look with Nate, acutely aware of her close connection with some of The Judgement Day members. “Sniper. Precise. A single shot between the eyes.”

Seth’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Interesting. That’s not just skill, that’s money—serious money. You want that kinda precision, you’re not hiring your cousin’s buddy from down the block. You’re bringing in someone with credentials.”

Roman crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Professional. Just like we thought.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying…” Seth gave him a look that screamed obviously, before pulling out another folder, opening it to reveal a printout of a bank statement. “Now, here’s where it gets fun. I’ve been tracking some weird transfers—big ones. They’ve been popping up since late August. All routing through an account I haven’t seen active since 2015.”

Nate leaned forward slightly, looking down at the statement. “And the account belongs to…?”

Seth tapped the paper with a finger. “Back in the day, it was listed under the name ‘Shattered Dreams Armory.’ A nice little alias for weapons trading. But now?” He flipped to another page, showing a different name associated with a recent transfer. “It’s going under ‘Viper Machinery.’”

Roman’s brow furrowed, and he exchanged a quick glance with Nate, who was visibly processing the information. “Viper Machinery,” Roman repeated under his breath before shaking his head slowly. “I’m not sure I’ve heard of it.”

“Not surprising,” Seth said. “Whoever’s running it is smart. They’re keeping their tracks covered. But these transfers?” He pointed down at the statement. “They’re big. Someone’s moving a lot of money, and they’re using old channels to do it. Feels like someone’s waking up old ghosts to pull this off.”

“You got specifics? Dates? Amounts?”

Seth rolled his eyes at Roman, needling his tone somewhat. “Do I look like I half-ass this kinda thing? Of course I’ve got specifics.” He flipped the page again, showing the detailed breakdown of the transfers. “August, a hundred grand. September, another two-fifty. October, half a mil. All to this account.”

Roman reached for the folder, but Seth didn’t hand it over immediately, instead holding it just out of reach. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he said sarcastically.

Roman’s jaw tightened, and Nate groaned loudly. “Chert voz’mi, bozhe moy,” she muttered, stepping between them. “Can we not do this right now? Just give him the bloody folder, Rollins.”

Seth relented, but not without a small glare from Becky, who was clearly unimpressed with his antics. Roman opened the folder, scanning the contents quickly. His face scrunched up as he processed the information. Shattered Dreams Amory… So familiar, yet so far out of his grasp of recollection. 

“You’re welcome,” Seth repeated smugly, leaning against the car, like he couldn’t help himself.

“For what?” Roman looked up at him. “Doin’ the bare minimum?”

Seth grinned. “For not charging you, big guy. Information like this doesn’t come cheap. You should be thanking me.”

“Thank you,” Roman said dryly, making it more than obvious that he didn’t mean a bit of it.

Nate pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes before holding a hand out between the two men. “Are you two done measuring dicks, or do I need to referee?”

Seth chuckled, as though he’d just heard the funniest thing in the world, which prompted Becky to roll her eyes and nudge her husband. “For the love of God,” she said. “You’re not twelve.”

“I’m just saying,” he replied innocently, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

Roman ignored the banter, flipping through the folder in his hands, before glancing back up at Seth. “Anythin’ else?”

Seth actually hesitated for a fraction of a second, blinking at Roman like he wanted to say something more but thought better of it. Instead, he confidently shook his head. “On them? Not yet. But if you’re dealing with someone who’s willing to reanimate a name like Shattered Dreams, you’re in deep. And not the fun kind of deep.”

“Great,” Nate mumbled, her patience wearing thin. “Just what we needed to hear.”

Roman closed the folder with a snap. “Let’s keep this movin’.”

Becky leaned against the edge of the sedan, producing a brown envelope from inside the trunk. “Alright,” she began, glancing between Roman and Nate, “My turn. After we agreed to meet, I took it upon myself to make a few calls. Got in touch with a couple of lads who owe me a few favours.”

Nate’s head snapped towards her, sharpening her features. “You what? Becky, are you serious? Why the fuck would you bring more people into this?”

The redhead raised an eyebrow, completely unbothered by the outburst. “Relax, Sherlock. A shootout in a warehouse isn’t exactly the kind of thing people overlook. You think nobody was gonna notice? Someone was bound to find out something happened there eventually.”

“And who, exactly, did you talk to?” 

“Finn Bálor,” Becky said calmly, “And JD McDonagh… You know them.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” Nate hissed. “I’ve already had Rhea down my throat, Beck, I didn’t exactly want the rest of Judgement Day sniffing around. I’m pretty sure they already think it was my dad who did all thi–”

“Was it?” Seth flat-out asked. Nate glared over at him, taking a heavy breath through her nose.

“Listen, Rollins, I already don’t like y–”

“Would you relax?” Becky cut her off, holding up her hands. “I was smooth about it, okay? Finn and JD know how to keep things quiet, and you know damn well Finn doesn’t give a shite about anyone but himself.” She folded her arms, staring Nate down. “Besides, I’ve known Finn for years, you think I’d go around shouting your business? Give them some credit.”

Unbeknownst to Seth and Becky, Roman had slid his hand down to Nate’s lower back, giving her a little squeeze firm enough to get her attention. “Chill, Volkov, you’re good,” he said quietly. “Let her finish.”

Nate exhaled sharply, eyes flicking to Roman briefly before crossing her arms over her chest. “What did Dumb and Dumber find then?” she grumbled.

Becky reached into the envelope in her hands and pulled out a clear ziplock bag, holding it up for everyone to see. Inside were several shell casings. “Finn and JD went back to the warehouse to scout for anything left behind. Turns out, there were shells from both your weaponry,” she said, nodding toward Roman, “And the Volkovs.”

“Wow, look at Captain Obvious…” Nate mumbled, huffing a little.

Ignoring the jab, Becky proceeded to pick out a single shell from the bottom of the bag, holding it up between her fingers. “Except this one.”

Squinting his eyes, Roman leaned in to take a good look at it. “And that is?”

Becky handed the shell to Seth, who held it up like he was examining a rare artefact. “This,” Seth began, “Is a casing from a Barrett MRAD sniper rifle. High-calibre, precision-focused, and expensive as hell. Not the kind of thing you pick up at your average black-market arms dealer.”

Nate tilted her head, face contorting slightly. “And where does that get us?”

Seth’s smirk was complacent. “It gets us here.” He opened up yet another folder and laid out a piece of paper on the floor of his trunk with what looked like a transaction log. “This particular rifle? It was registered in 2013 to Shattered Dreams Armory. And we already know that whoever’s behind Shattered Dreams has rebranded into this Viper Machinery nonsense.”

“So, whoever pulled the trigger on Priest…” Roman started, “Used a weapon they got directly from Shattered Dreams.”

“Exactly,” Becky confirmed. “Whoever’s pulling the strings here has been at it for years. They didn’t just steal your shipment and take out Priest on a whim. This is methodical. They’ve got resources and connections that go way back.”

Nate’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “Perfect,” she huffed. “So we’re dealing with a ghost who knows how to cover tracks.”

“You’re not wrong,” Seth said. “But now you know what to look into. Viper Machinery is your link. Find out who’s using it, and you’ll find out who’s behind all of this.”

Nate’s shoulders stiffened, and her voice rose slightly. “And how exactly do you expect us to do that? It’s not like they’re advertising their services on Craigslist.”

“Nate,” Roman stepped in. She looked up at him, her breathing quick and shallow, irritation boiling over. His eyes locked with hers, steadily. Grounding her. “We’re gon’ figure it out,” he reassured. “You’re no good to anyone if you’re workin’ yourself up too much to think.”

Her lips parted as though she wanted to argue. And she did. God, she could argue with a brick wall if it was laid wrong. But the quiet authority in Roman’s tone—and the way he wasn’t looking at her like an opponent but a straight up ally—made her pause. She breathed out slowly, nodding at him. “Okay,” she said softly.

Becky’s brows lifted as she watched the exchange with great interest. “Huh,” she chuckled. “Look at that… He’s not a total arse.”

Seth scoffed a little but didn’t comment, instead gesturing to the folder still in Roman’s hands. “That’s all I can give you for now. But if you want my advice—”

“Did we ask for it?” Roman interrupted.

Seth grinned. “Yeah, yeah, acknowledge me, I get it. Just don’t screw this up, Big Dog. Because if you do, it’s not just your ass on the line. It’s hers too.” He nodded toward Nate.

If this were under any other circumstances, Roman may have just floored the guy. But, adhering to Nate’s requests, he just cleared his throat and tucked the folder under his arms, turning to her. “Let’s go.”

As Roman began making his way back to the car, Nate took a quick moment to give Becky an appreciative glance, mouthing a silent thank you in the process before catching up to Roman with a small jog. Walking back to the SUV, she caught the tiniest flicker of a smirk on the Samoan’s face.

“What?” she asked defensively.

“Nothin’,” he replied, the smirk only deepening. “Just nice to see I’m the one who can shut you up.”

“Don’t push your luck, Reigns, we’re barely back to the car yet.”

Nearing the SUV, Roman’s stride began to slow, casting a wary side glance at Nate. He stopped just shy of the vehicle, and his hand lightly caught her elbow, stopping her in her tracks too.

“You good?” he asked evenly, though sharp eyes scanned her face like he was reading between the lines of a book in a language he couldn’t decipher.

“Fine,” Nate answered quickly, perhaps too quickly. Her guard was up, her tone clipped in a way that Roman didn’t miss. Couldn’t miss. In fact, he hadn’t missed it all night.

“Uh-huh.” 

Roman didn’t buy it for a second. The slight tilt of his head signalled he wasn’t going to let her brush him off this time, folding his arms across his broad chest, the folder securely in one hand. “You headin’ back to Tribeca tonight?”

She hesitated, which already told him more than her eventual answer. “Yeah. But I can make my own way if it’s inconvenient, if you’ve got something else going on.”

That stumped him. “What?”

Nate squinted her eyes, confused as to why he was looking at her like she’d just spoken a foreign language. Maybe she’d just spoken in pure Russian and didn’t realise.

“I mean… You’ve got things going on, right?” she shifted uncomfortably, dropping her voice, “I don’t need to–”

“Hold up.” Roman’s tone was calm, but weighty enough for her to happily shut the fuck up. “You don’t need to what? You worried ‘bout me all of a sudden? ‘Cause that don’t sound right, Princess.”

She bristled, a small scoff escaping her. “I’m not worried, I’m just—”

“You’re just…?” He leaned slightly closer, his voice dipping lower. “Go on. Finish that.”

“I’m being practical,” she huffed with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, okay…” He was clearly unconvinced, shaking his head and muttering under his breath, “Practical, my ass.”

Nate wanted to argue, even started to part her lips to refute his dismissal, but he cut her off before she could. “We’ll drop everyone off back at my place first, then I’ll take you to Tribeca.”

“Why not just stop at Tribeca on the way?” she frowned. “Makes more sense.”

Roman’s eyes locked onto hers in that stern, cold way they did when he wasn’t willing to negotiate, to argue. “Because I wanna talk to you.”

Brows knitting together, a flicker of confusion crossed her. “About what?”

“Just get in the car, Volkov, or I’ma leave you here.”

Nate stared at him for a moment, debating whether or not to push back, but ultimately sighed heavily and started her way round to the passenger’s side of the car. “So bloody infuriating…” she mumbled.

“Heard that,” he called from the other side of the SUV, the signature smirk back on his face as he climbed into the driver’s seat and instantly turned toward the back seat to pass Jimmy the folder. “Take this. Focus on two names: Shattered Dreams Armory and Viper Machinery. I’ll break the rest down later, but for now, I need you on it. Both of you,” he added, looking between Jimmy and Jey. “We’ll get Tamina on it too.”

“Got it, Uce. We’ll take care of it,” Jimmy agreed, pursing his lips as he perused the documents with Jey attempting to lean over Sami to get a look at it himself, as though he couldn’t just ask for the folder when his brother was done with it.

The drive to Roman’s house was steeped in a quiet friction. Sami and Jimmy chatted quietly in the back, with Jey and Solo inputting here and there, but it wasn’t difficult to feel Solo’s wandering observation, even from all the way in the rear. But the Tribal Chief knew how to handle his enforcer, so he just ignored it for now, focusing on the road.

When they pulled into the long driveway leading to the house, Roman brought the car to a slow stop and cut off the engine. The Usos, Sami, and Solo climbed out, though the latter lingered, gripping the door frame as he glanced at Roman. His eyes flicked over at Nate, seated quietly, her form more withdrawn than usual.

“You’re not comin’ in?” Solo asked.

Roman shook his head firmly. “I’m takin’ Nate back to her place.”

Solo furrowed his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes inquisitively. “Why can’t she–”

“Solo,” Roman interrupted carefully. “Make sure everyone’s good inside. Hold it down ‘til I get back. Won’t be long.”

For a moment, Solo didn’t move, and focused back on the outside in the passenger seat. Unlike earlier, when she might have met his stare with defiance, she simply looked away blankly, as though her attention were somewhere completely unrelated and distant. The shift that even he noticed, left Solo frowning, but his cousin’s authoritative presence was enough to prevent further questioning.

“Yeah. Alright,” he grunted with a reluctant nod, before stepping back and shutting the door.

Roman shifted back into gear and eased the SUV back down the driveway, soaking up the silence that took over the space. It was thick. Not heavy, per se. But it was more… elusive—uncertain, fatigued.

Nate leaned her head against the cool glass of the window, her eyes fixed on the blur of city lights as they made their way toward Tribeca. She wasn’t one to sink into a foreigners space comfortably, but it was hard not to with the exhaustion that began to seep into every inch of her being. The need for solitude pressed on her greater than the need for compliance.

Surprisingly, the large Samoan beside her didn’t push her to talk, his hands steady on the wheel. He’d give her this time, at least…

But, like always, tranquillity never found peace in the lap of a Volkov; a faint, unmistakable growl broke through the monotony—the sound of a stomach protesting its neglect.

Roman glanced sideways, one brow lifting in amusement. “That your stomach?”

Nate sighed, a reluctant smile forming despite herself. “Maybe,” she admitted gently.

The corner of Roman’s mouth curved upward, and he let out a low chuckle. “Damn, you got a beast in there or somethin’?”

The moment felt fleetingly normal—just two people sharing a bit of levity in the aftermath of intense conversation. Nate rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the airy laugh that left her lips.

“I think it’s trying to mutiny,” she dryly jested, that classic British edge that only some could detect as humour.

“You hungry? We can stop somewhere. Grab somethin’ real quick.”

The question caught her by surprise, and she hesitated before shaking her head. “No, I’m fine.”

“You sure?” he asked, looking at her for a beat longer than necessary before he returned his focus to the road. “Your body’s tellin’ you somethin’, Volkov, probably a good idea to listen.”

The ease of the previous exchange simmered down slightly, the smile on Nate’s face now just a vacant chime of a grimace as she straightened in her seat. “It’s past six.”

Roman frowned. “What, that like a rule or somethin’?”

“Something like that.” She didn’t elaborate, just continued to watch as the road came toward them and disappeared under the car.

The instinct to understand Nate’s habits and the reasons behind them seemed to gnaw at Roman’s psyche; he wanted to press further. Wanted to figure her out. Entirely. But the way she adjusted her posture—the way her shoulders tensed—put a stop to his curiosities. Maybe it was cultural, he reasoned, some family thing he had no right prying into.

“Alright,” he simply said, letting it go.

The SUV fell back into silence, but this time it was softer, less oppressive. Definitely less oppressive than one would expect after such a strange exchange. But Nate’s mind drifted, like it always did in times of energy depletion and thinning patience, but she couldn’t deny the foreign sense of ease she felt sitting there beside Roman. Beneath the complete instability of home, he provided a quiet kind of… security. 

A sensation of safety that eluded her elsewhere.

Roman parked the SUV a few buildings down from Nate’s apartment, just far enough to keep the vehicle out of the view of security cameras at the front of her complex. They were out of the way enough that they wouldn’t be interrupted, save from the occasional hum of passing traffic in the otherwise still night.

Neither of them moved for what seemed like the longest minute of Nate’s life. His hands were still on the wheel, knuckles rolling a little as he adjusted his grip. His jaw; tense as he prepared for a conversation he wasn’t entirely sure how to start.

Nate shifted slightly in her seat, fingers brushing against the door handle. The exhaustion had deepened during the quiet drive, and all she wanted was the sanctuary of her own space—a moment to shut the world out, Roman included. Too much on her mind. Too many emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

A few glasses of whiskey, blasting some music, and a hot bath seemed like, at that moment, the best thing in the world.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said softly. It wasn’t too much like her to express gratitude so easily, but it felt different tonight. Tonight, she just felt like a massive burden. A bout of deadweight nobody truly wanted to drag around with them. Like she was in the way, yet… never there when needed.

She made a quick move to open the door, making it clear she wasn’t looking for further conversation. “I’ll head in from he–”

Roman’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around her wrist firmly, but not so much that it would hurt her. She froze, breath catching in her throat. There was no malice in the touch, but his authority—his… insistence was what stopped her as effectively as a wall would.

“Not so fast.”

Turning her head slowly, her eyes met his, noting the sharp angles of his face highlighted by the streetlight beside where he’d parked up. The furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw. He didn’t speak at first, his hand sliding up from her wrist to her forearm, a clear goal in mind. Her body practically stiffened as it stopped just short of her shoulder before moving upward again. 

When his thumb brushed over her cheekbone—light, reverent—she flinched. It was slight, but Roman noticed it.

His fingers lingered, barely cupping her face now, and his thumb traced the faint but unmistakable cut along her skin.

For a man like Roman, who could be cruel and brutal when necessary, the tenderness in his touch was jarring.

“What happened?” he asked quietly. It was calm, but the undertones were anything but.

Nate tried to turn her head, tried to move out of his hold, but his hand didn’t budge. “It’s nothing,” mumbled. “Really. Just… I slipped, that’s all.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He narrowed his eyes at her.

She sighed, shoulders slumping a fraction in the process. “It’s not a big deal. Things happen, Roman, let’s ju–”

“I said, don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his tone sharper this time. His thumb brushed over the cut again, eyes darkening as he did. “You expect me to believe you ‘slipped’ and landed on your face? C’mon, Volkov, you’re better at lyin’ than that.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her silence speaking louder than anything she could have said.

Roman’s jaw tightened, his patience fraying. “Was it… what’s his name, Alexei?” he asked. Voice dropping an octave.

Nate shook her head immediately.

“Boris?” he asked next, the faintest trace of confusion colouring his words, like the concept made little sense.

Again, she shook her head.

Roman paused, his hand still on her cheek, thumb still tracing small circles near the edge of the cut. His eyes searched hers, and for the first time during this particular conversation, he hesitated.

“...Dimitri?”

It felt heavy on his tongue, almost too vile to say aloud.

She didn’t nod. She didn’t shake her head. Didn’t move at all, in fact. And the silence that followed was deafening.

Roman’s hand dropped from her face as if her skin had burned him. He leaned back in his seat, his eyes locked on her. The shift in his expression was progressive. The anger rising within him was like a tidal wave, slow and inevitable.

“Your father?” he repeated through a low tremble that barely contained his impending fury.

Nate didn’t respond, just had her hands clasped together tightly in her lap. She couldn’t even look at him in her time of weakness. To her, it was… pathetic.

“What kind of man,” he began, “Puts his hands on his own daughter? Huh? What kind of… pathetic, weak bastard thinks that’s okay?”

She stayed silent, her head tilted downward, but she took in every syllable of what he was saying.

“You’re his daughter,” Roman continued, the words tumbling out now, fuelled by a rage that only seemed to grow. “His blood. You don’t hit your own, Nate. You don’t raise a hand to any woman, let alone your own damn kid. What the fuck’s wrong with him? What kinda sick—”

His voice broke off, and he slammed a hand against the dashboard, the sharp sound echoing in the confines of the car. Whilst Nate didn’t flinch, her chest began to rise and fall a little faster now, a shallowness forming in her breath.

Roman shook his head, running a hand over his face. “I’d never–” He stopped, his throat tightening and his teeth gritting painfully. “I can’t even think about doin’ somethin’ like that to Ava. I’d cut off my own fuckin’ hands first. That’s your daughter, you protect her. You don’t…” He trailed off, hands clenched into fists.

He just… couldn’t shake the anger simmering beneath his skin. The thought of a father hitting his daughter—it wasn’t just foreign to him; it was repulsive. It dug at something primal, something deeply ingrained in his core, and the more he thought about it, the harder it became to let go. But it wasn’t just the abstract idea of it anymore. It was Nate.

And that’s what finally made him pause.

She was sitting next to him, as still as a shadow, staring out of the window like she could somehow dissolve into the night if she tried hard enough. The cool, unflappable Natalka Volkov, who never so much as blinked when the stakes were high, had tears streaking silently down her cheeks.

Roman blinked, as though his mind needed to catch up with what his eyes were seeing. She wasn’t sobbing, wasn’t shaking, wasn’t even making a sound. It was quieter than anything he’d ever witnessed, but it hit him harder than if she’d broken down entirely. She wasn’t just crying. She was breaking—right there in his passenger seat.

For a moment, he just watched her. The sheen of tears clinging to her lashes, the way her chest rose and fell like she was trying to breathe through a knot in her throat. It dawned on him, slow and heavy, that he’d never seen her like this. Ever. Nate didn’t cry. She snapped, she fought, she drank, she laughed. But she didn’t cry.

Not until now.

And it wasn’t just the tears. It was what they meant. It wasn’t lost on him that her guard was always so airtight, so impenetrable, and the fact that she’d let it slip in front of him of all people—that told him everything he needed to know. Whatever was happening with her, whatever had driven her to this edge, it was… bad.

Roman’s nostrils flared in his disgust, his anger, as it rose back up in his chest again. But it was different now. Before, he’d been mad at the idea. The principle. Now, he was mad for her. For Nate.

How bad was it over there?

For years, he’d painted the Volkovs—and every Russian tied to them—with the same brush. Ruthless, cold-blooded criminals. They weren’t people to him; they were obstacles, enemies. And when Nate first came into his life, that’s exactly how he’d seen her. A means to an end. A pawn in the game.

But now?

Roman exhaled sharply, leaning back in his seat and dragging a hand over his jaw. Damn it. He meant it that time he told her she wasn’t her family. She wasn’t like Dimitri. And that was part of the problem. She’d spent so much of her life fighting to impress her father, maybe even to be a better, more powerful version of him, and now Roman hated the fact that he was starting to care.

Care.

Forbidden territory, that’s what she was. The daughter of his enemy. A woman he wasn’t supposed to feel anything for. And yet here she was, unravelling before him. He hated the way it twisted his insides. Hated the way it made him want to protect her, to keep her from whatever hell she was facing at home.

This wasn’t who he was supposed to be. He didn’t care about the women he fucked. Hell, he didn’t even think about them after the fact. Yet since that night at the safehouse, he hadn’t been with anyone else. Not once.

The realisation hit him like a punch to the gut, and it only made him angrier. Just another thing to add to the mountain of bullshit piling up around him. 

Letting out a sharp breath, he looked over at Nate again. Her face was angled toward the window, but her hands were clenched tightly in her lap. He could see the faint tremor in her fingers.

“Nate,” he said finally, yet a little rougher than he intended.

She didn’t turn.

“Nate, look at me.”

So she did, albeit slowly with her eyes still shining with unshed tears.

“How did it happen?” he asked.

She held off on an answer. Half-wishing that this conversation never even started in the first place. Then, as if the dam had cracked, she breathed out and began to speak.

“They told Katya,” she said quietly, distantly, “That she’s going to marry Alexei in February.”

Roman tilted his head. “Alexei,” he repeated. “The guy your old man’s pushin’ into business?”

She nodded, her gaze drifting again, as though she were replaying the memory in her mind. “She’s so sweet, Roman,” she murmured, almost to herself. “She’s not like us. Not like me. She’s… pure.” Her breath caught, but she kept going. “I’ve tried so… so hard to keep her away from all of this. But now they’re dragging her into it, and she doesn’t even know what she’s being dragged into.”

He noted how her voice softened when she talked about her sister, how her hands tightened in her lap as if trying to hold herself together.

“You told them no,” he half-asked.

Nate nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Of course, I told them no,” she said, her voice finally gaining some edge. “But no one tells my dad no. Not without…” She gestured vaguely toward her cheek, her meaning clear.

Roman’s eyes narrowed as the pieces clicked into place. “You stood up to him.” A hint of… pride, perhaps—creeping into his tone. She shrugged, the facade slipping back into place, though not quite as solid as before.

“Someone had to,” she said matter-of-factly.

He let out a low huff, almost a laugh, humourless and dry. “You’re outta your damn mind,” he shook his head. “You know that?”

She smirked faintly, the first real emotion that touched the realm of positive, he’d seen from her since they parked. “Yeah. I’ve been told.”

“You’re not like him, y’know,” Roman suddenly interjected, the caught-off-guard expression on Nate’s face more endearing to him than it should’ve been. “You’re not like your old man,” he repeated. “I know I told you that before, but I meant that shit.”

Even though she didn’t respond immediately, it was noticeable how the tension in her shoulders, and all the way down her back, softened. Like… she was relieved. And he didn’t elaborate, didn’t push. He didn’t need to. She’d been getting better at seeing through him, and she saw through him now. Whatever else he felt—anger, frustration, pride—he buried it under the same stubborn mask he always wore.

And she let him, because she got it.

And the quiet that stretched like the one after a storm that promised another was on the horizon, wasn’t awkward. Just heavy. Roman rested his hand on the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the street ahead, while Nate sat motionless beside him. At first, he thought she was about to leave, but something stopped her.

Her eyes narrowed a bit, a slight furrow in her brow as her teeth caught the edge of her bottom lip. She was thinking, deeply, about something; he saw it in the harshness of her swallow, in the small, involuntary twitch of her fingers against her lap.

Shifting in her seat, she leaned back before leaning forward again, clearly unsure of how to approach whatever was on her mind.

“Nate,” Roman said, cutting through her thoughts. “What is it?”

She faltered, tightening the muscles in her jaw. Then, with a minute, shaky breath, she spoke.

“Could you…” She trailed off, biting at her lip again before starting over. “I was just wondering if—actually, no. Forget it, it–”

“Nate,” he interrupted firmly enough to stop her spiral of second-guessing.

She exhaled sharply, shoulders deflating as she tried again. “Could you do me a favour?” 

Roman arched a brow, glancing at her out the corner of his eye. “Depends on the favour.”

“Nothing… crazy,” she rushed to explain, a nervous edge creeping into her words. “And honestly, if you can’t, it’s fine. I get it. You’ve got your own stuff, and I don’t want t–”

“I’ll do it.”

She blinked at him, startled by how quickly and definitively he’d agreed. “You don’t even know what it is,” she tilted her head.

“Does it matter?”

“You love to play the hero, eh?” she huffed through a soft, incredulous laugh.

He shot her a look that was half-warning, half-amused. “I’m not a hero. What d’ya need, Princess?”

Fidgeting with one of the buckles on her leather jacket, she hummed. “I uh… I need you to put me in touch with Tamina.”

“Tamina?” Of all the things she could’ve asked, that wasn’t what he expected.

“Yeah.” She looked up at him, already seeing the question in his eyes before he could ask it. “I need to sort something out,” she said. “I need information on someone, and Tamina… she’s the best at finding things, right?”

There was no hesitation when he nodded almost instantly. “Alright.”

That simplicity caught her off guard. “Just like that?” she asked, squinting at him like he had an ulterior motive.

“Just like that,” he confirmed.

Honestly, she was expecting to have to go into details, to convince him to let her talk with Tamina, but apparently not.

“O-okay,” she finally uttered. “Can you give her my burner number?”

“Your burner?”

She nodded, glancing away briefly before meeting his eyes again. “I can’t leave any trace of this. Not at home, not on my regular line. Nothing. I’m being serious, Roman, this needs to stay off the radar.”

As much as she expected him to press for answers, he wanted to. It was just part of who he was; the constant need to be aware of everything that’s going on, not content with the thought of not being in the know about something he is indirectly aiding. But Nate clearly had her reasons, and if those reasons meant she had to go to these lengths to actually ask him for help, he wasn’t about to argue it.

“Fine,” he mumbled, reaching for his phone from his pocket to make a note for himself. “You’ll hear from her soon.”

“Okay…” Nate sat in silence as she watched his long thumbs move over his phone screen, her thoughts clearly still racing, her own fingers drummed lightly against her knee. She couldn’t help the shifting in her seat, and the need to take slow, deep breaths. 

Eventually, her hand hovered near the door handle, but she didn’t open it yet. Instead, she turned toward him, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered, carrying a note of sincerity even he wasn’t prepared for. He raised an eyebrow, now averting his gaze back to her.

“For what?”

“For… I don’t know.” She stumbled on her words, then let out a small laugh, muttering to herself, “Ya chertovski nenavizhu sebya…” She cleared her throat. “For not making this harder than it already is, I guess. For just saying yes without asking too many questions.”

Roman shrugged, placing his phone on the dashboard. “You needed somethin’. I said I’d do it.”

There it was again—that simplicity. So infuriatingly matter-of-fact. Nate felt a warmth bloom in her chest, but she shoved it down before it could spread too far and too wide. She leaned forward slightly, taking in the details of his face as if trying to decide whether or not she should do what she was thinking of doing. What her body was telling, ordering her to do.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she proceeded to lean in closer, her lips brushing softly against Roman’s cheek, just above where his beard meticulously bordered the rest of his face. A kiss so quick and delicate that it almost didn’t happen.

Freezing for half a second, Roman’s body came to a stop at the unexpected gesture. She lingered just long enough for him to feel the warmth of her spearmint breath, the faint scent of her perfume protracting in the process. And the shampoo she used, clear-as-day vanilla with the smallest hint of rhubarb, coming together with the cocoa butter lotion left as an after-aroma. 

Intoxicating.

When she pulled back, there was something gentle behind her honey eyes—something vulnerable. “Thank you,” she said again, more as a mumble this time.

He didn’t answer, just kept the dark fix of his gaze locked on her with an unreadable countenance. 

Alas, she cleared her throat once more, straightening up as she reached for the door handle again. “Keep me in the loop, okay? About those folders Seth gave you. I want to know what else is in there.”

Roman nodded once, curtly and with an air of finality. “You’ll know.”

Nate opened the door and slipped out of the car, the cool night air hitting her as she turned back to face him. 

“Goodnight, Reigns. Don’t get yourself killed,” she said, a smirk appearing in the limited light. He mirrored, switching on the engine and resting his forearm over the steering wheel.

“G’night, Princess.”

With one last tight-lipped smile, she shut the door and made her way toward the apartment building, her figure disappearing into the shadows. Roman sat there, staring at her fading form in the side-view mirror, the faint impression of her kiss still lingering on his cheek like a ghost.

He didn’t even move until she was completely out of sight, until he knew she’d gotten inside the building, and it wasn’t even until he was halfway home that he realised she’d played on his mind the whole time. Never once left a single iota of brainpower for anything else. She was getting under his skin in ways he hadn’t anticipated, more than she ever had done up until that moment, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

All he knew was that, for reasons he didn’t want to admit, he found himself admiring her all over again.